Through Emerald Eyes (Under Re-write)
by celestia193
Summary: Were the Riders really exterminated in The Fall? Was Oromis really waiting all alone for Eragon? The girl with emerald eyes, an emerald dragon, and a healing touch begs to differ. OC : Ciara Thrandurin. I do not own Eragon, or any characters, plot or quotes from the Inheritance Cycle. Rated T for light blood, gore...the stuff you read in the books basically. Sequel is up, updating.
1. The First Green Rider

**Alright, so I'm rewriting this story, since I really think that it could stand to be improved. The story itself will stay the same, I'm just adding more details and trying to make it flow better. I'll be replacing all of the chapters, but one by one as I rewrite them. It might take a while, since I don't have the books on hand and can't get dialogue straight from the text. But I'll do my best.**

 **Enjoy. (Though it starts off a little dark).**

* * *

The Fall. A terrible battle that all but exterminated the Riders.

The culprit. Galbatorix.

Traitor. Oath-breaker. Murderer.

Killer of Vrael, and murderer of many other besides.

Master of the Forsworn. Thirteen traitors to the Dragon Riders. Thirteen Riders and their dragons, following Galbatorix in his quest to destroy all that stood before him.

Enough to tip the scale.

Among the survivors of the Fall were my parents, my grandfather, and their dragons.

That was nearly one hundred years ago.

* * *

My name is Ciara, one of the last two members of the noble house Thrandurin. My grandfather and I are the only ones left in our family, as my father died shortly after I was born.

A strong and noble elf, my father was a Rider known for his egalitarian views on the races of Alagaesia. Which is why my mother was a human princess turned Rider, the elder sister of the last true king of the Broddring Kingdom, now known as the Empire, under Galbatorix's thumb. Her brother was the late King Angrenost, the last king before Galbatorix murdered his way to the crown.

After the Fall, my parents helped my grandfather and his dragon to escape, as bot of them were heavily injured. The two of them were the only members of the Council of Elders to survive the battles.

Shortly after my birth, Grandfather Oromis and his dragon, Glaedr of the Gold Scales, were the only paired dragon and Rider left. My parents left the safety of Du Weldenvarden with their dragon partners. Zenithar, my father's deep, emerald green dragon, and Turina, my mother's dragon, as blue as the sky at twilight.

The four of them left to confront Galbatorix when I was only days old, leaving me in the care of my grandfather. And in a battle that rocked the land itself, they fought to their last breaths. Leaving me alone with my aged grandfather in the endless forest.

* * *

My grandfather has raised me since birth, teaching me art, history, botany, medicine, philosophy, and about the natural world. Thanks to him, I am also quite fluent in many of the languages that dot the land. His teachings of reason and logic allow me to hold a conversation with him for hours, something not easily done. And most importantly, he also teaches me magic.

It was an accident, discovering my powerful magical talents, but not unexpected. Even without their dragons, my parents were exceptional spellcasters, and with them, they were nearly unstoppable.

Nearly…

My magic training began when I was six years old, after an incident that very nearly burned down his house. Grandfather was the only one to see the potential in me. He was the only one who cared enough to train me.

To the other elves, I am seen as something lesser, something unclean. They pretend to be above discrimination, to value equality and social niceties above all. But I suppose that those courtesies do not extend to a halfling, a half blood. The child of an elf, and a human. They avoid me as though I am something contagious, though for the most part, they do not insult me outright. However they do not need to, for the isolation that it brings is punishment enough.

* * *

At the age of ten, my life changed forever.

Grandfather was out meditating, as is his usual ritual in the middle of the day. Though he had assigned me nothing to do, and I quickly grew bored and restless.

I thought to do a good deed and take care of cleaning his house. Sweeping and dusting, rolling up scrolls and putting them back in cubbies where they belong. I continued on to laundry, making the bed, and airing out the entire house.

But as I moved some blankets to wash them, I found a chest. And though I knew that I should probably leave it be, my ten year old curiosity would not allow it.

Trying to touch it, I found a ward repelling me. My curiosity and my reason fought for dominance, my curiosity winning out. Grandfather had taught me how to make and break wards, and with a small application of magic in just the right spot, the ward holding me back disappeared.

I opened the chest to find something hard, and covered in silk cloth. After moving the cloth away, I found a beautiful green stone, about two feet long, and heavy enough that I was forced to put it on my lap to examine it.

But whatever it was, it seemed pleased to be free. The stone began vibrating and rocking in my lap, clearly desiring to be free. Knocking on it once, I hadn't expected much to happen, let alone what happened next.

It cracked.

Lines appeared on the stone, no, the egg, cracking in every direction. Pieces bobbed up and down, wobbling and wiggling, until a tiny green head poked its way out of the mess.

As pieces fell away, I realized that the stone was an egg. A dragon egg. And if it hatched for me, it could only mean one thing. As the little green creature looked up at me, peering innocently into my eyes, I reached out my hands to hold it, to pull it closer and feel its warmth. Then and there, a flash of light, and a burning sensation in both of my palms marked me.

As the flash of light cleared, I looked to my hands, which were no longer burning, and saw two identical silver shapes in them. Two halves of the same whole. A gedway ignasia, the mark of a Rider, split between my hands.

I'd turned to the dragon and begun reciting names of people, dragons, animals, plants, anything that might seem to fit him. Eventually, I came to the name Sorin, to which he gave a happy chirp.

My grandfather later found me on the floor of his house, playing with the newly hatched green dragon. And instead of berating me for breaking the ward and sneaking into his private chest, he simply sighed and announced that it was time to begin my Rider training, a day that he'd known would come since the day I was born. Since the day both of us were born.

* * *

I spent the next five years in training with my grandfather. I learned Rider lore, and a few alterations and additions to my basic lessons. But for the most part, it was training like I had always had it. Only more intense, and more coordinated to account for Sorin's presence. We quickly progressed to the highest levels of telepathy, perfected the self-awareness gained through meditation, and memorized as much Rider and dragon lore as Oromis and Glaedr could tell us.

My favorite lessons were flying lessons, something that Sorin and I could do together for hours. And after flying, my favorite lessons involved independent research into the healing arts, which I was both eager and quick to master. Transformative magic came close behind, as I found myself growing unique plants and even changing my own appearance slightly to suit me.

The elves always seemed to think that I looked too human. But I'd stopped trying to live up to their expectations, preferring to live and look the way I wanted to. Using natural pigments and a hint of magic, I'd put streaks of green and gold into my hair, which otherwise reminded me of the color of oak trees. I changed the pigments in my eyes to give them a richer hue of green, matching well with Sorin's scales.

And lastly, I devised a way to insert pigment under my skin using magic. Swirling the pigment around, I created patterns that flowed and curved with my growing body, planning to cast a spell on them to change their color according to my wishes.

Not all went to plan, as Sorin had become curious about my experiments. Curious enough that he decided that he would like to touch them. And the moment his snout touched the markings embedded in my skin, magic flowed from him into me as he accidentally cast a spell.

Over the following days and weeks, I discovered exactly what Sorin had done to me, in his youthful excitement. Instead of shifting colors according to my whim, the tattoos shifted with my emotions, changing colors along with my mood. When angry, they would turn a violent scarlet. When happy, they would lighten to an almost golden yellow. And when using particularly powerful magic, they would shine as bright a silver as my gedway ignasia. Sorin had unwittingly made me even more unique than I could have dreamed.

* * *

Coming towards the end of my training, I am the only able-bodied Rider in Alagaesia. Apart, of course, from the traitor Galbatorix. My grandfather can no longer fight as he wishes, and Glaedr, one of his legs cut off during the Fall, is crippled in his own way.

As I am a valuable, yet vulnerable piece, my grandfather opts to keep me close to him, essentially confining me to the forest of Du Weldenvarden. But I also know that it is because he does not want to see me killed like the rest of the Riders. And so, I must remain until I am older, wiser, and more powerful than I am now. All that remains for him to do is to train me in combat, something that we have avoided until now, and that I've never had an interest in learning.

* * *

The days pass quickly, and word of a new Rider has reached Grandfather's ears. He likely did not mean for me to find out so soon, but as he was telling Glaedr, Sorin overheard and informed me of the new developments.

A new Rider and dragon! Glaedr and Orimis were talking about a new Rider and dragon! And they've called the two of them here to Ellesmera!

This is certainly a development that I did not foresee. Then perhaps we aren't as alone as we thought…

According to the two of them, they're located in Farthen Dur, the dwarven capital. There was a large battle against Urgals, and against the king's army! And that's not all. Apparently, his teacher was Brom.

Brom…? Now that is a name I haven't heard in a very long time. I had the pleasure of meeting him on one occasion, when he came to visit Grandfather. He spoke plainly and bluntly, with not time for pointless small talk.

I loved it.

Unlike all of the elves who politely skirt around topics, he approached our conversations with frankness and a true equality, if something of a slight hierarchy because of my youth.

What I liked most about Brom were his stories. As I've ever been outside of the forest, I've never had the opportunity to see what has been going on in the rest of Alagaesia. His stories would give me a small hint of what the world outside of these trees is like. In fact, I've never ventured more than an hour's flight from Ellesmera, and never to the other cities. Sheltered takes on an entirely new meaning when applied to me.

* * *

My excitement grows day by day, with constant reminders from Glaedr to control my emotions, since they quite literally show on my face. As well as nearly every other part of exposed skin.

So, to keep myself calm and collected, I spend much of my time in my garden, tending to my herbs and flowers. All of the excess energy from my excitement goes towards making my plants grow and bloom, coaxing them into growing so quickly that they should soon be ready for harvest.

My garden is located at the base of the Crags of Tel'Naeir, down at the eastern edge, next to a small stream. The location is perfect, and there is enough magic in the air that the climate is well suited for growing nearly every medicinal herb and plant in the land.

It is here that I make my own home. A home in which I await the arrival of a new Rider.


	2. A Human and a Halfling

**Here is the re-write of chapter two. I should be able to get the chapters up faster now, because I'm back home, and I have all of my books around me. It's just a little hard to haul them across the country for university. Now, I've got my library back.**

* * *

Time flows on, and many weeks after hearing the news of another Rider, Oromis pays a visit to me in my garden. "Ciara, it's time. I am going to be meeting with Eragon today." His smile is gentle and understanding. "Would you like to come, or shall I introduce him to you later?"

At first, my excitement gets the better of me. Then, I remember his importance, the importance of his very existence, and my heart sinks like a stone in a pond. "He won't be alone, will he?"

Grandfather's understanding smile becomes sad. "I understand that you dread seeing other, fearing that hey will judge you for being different." He sighs, lightly brushing his hand against my hair. "No matter, I will bring him to see you soon, especially since you will likely need to provide relief for the pain his injury causes him."

"Alright." I nod slowly, focusing on my flowers. "Then I will see you later. Tell Sorin, he may want to go and meet the dragon. It will finally give him someone to play with."

Ruffling my hair gently, Oromis' voice is as full of compassion as always. "I'm sure that Sorin will allow you to speak through him if you feel like greeting them."

"I suppose…" I hate being as shy as I am. I would blame it on being scared to associate with people who would look down on me for being what I am, but in truth, it's my own weakness. Despite the steps I've taken to make myself independent, I continue to care too much about what others think of me.

With that, Oromis leaves me to my harvesting. But medicinal plants aren't the only things that I've been growing in my garden. I grow a variety of flowers, crossbred and magically transformed by my skill with magic. The blossoms have a variety of scents that float through the air, each as unique and lovely as the flower it comes from.

Are you sure that you do not want to go and meet them in person?

I look up at the cliff above me, to see Sorin perched on one of his favorite outcroppings. I'm sure. There will be plenty of time to talk with him later. But it would be best for now if I stayed out of sight. Especially with all of those lords and ladies who are sure to be with him

Are you sure? Those lords and ladies won't dare look at you with distaste if I am there with you.

No, but that won't stop them from thinking it. Besides…if I feel discomfort, they will know. If I become angry or sad, it will be obvious, even if I control my expression.

Sorin unfurls his wings and prepares to take off. Very well, the I will be your voice and provide greeting on your behalf when meeting with these newcomers.

Thank you, Sorin.

Sorin flies awat, leaving me to tend my garden alone. I still feel isolated, but once the irritating spectators are gone, perhaps I will have the chance to win ver Eragon's affections. He would be my first true friend, if circumstances allow. Oromis and Glaedr are family to me, and Sorin is my soul-partner. But none of them would fall into the category of 'friend'.

I feel Sorin nudging at my mind some time later, so I answer him. So? What are they like?

The dragon is female! I can practically hear him crowing with delight. Her name is Saphira! And the boy, Eragon, he seems rather like you, excited to be here, but also as though he carries the weight of much sadness. I believe that the two of you will find yourselves getting along quite well. But this is incredible! Though Saphira is much smaller than me, at least ten feet, perhaps more. I will enjoy teaching her more about flying! I hope that Glaedr will let me help teach her…

I contain a snort of laughter. So, are you pleased that there is finally a female dragon for you to socialize with?

Sorin shoots me a flash of annoyance. Of course I am pleased, but I would be pleased even if the dragon were male. Spending all day with Glaedr is dreadfully boring.

Oh please, you have always been despairing over the impossibility of finding a mate. Now, a female dragon appears, already a year old, and you expect me to believe that you would be just as happy if she were male?

There is silence for a moment, and a distinctly embarrassed feeling coming from Sorin. Alright, perhaps her being female makes me even happier, but I could say the same for you. Are you not pleased that her Rider is male, and only a year older than yourself?

That question gives me great reason to pause, taking in his meaning, as well as formulating my answer. I don't know. Perhaps? It is true that I have felt quite alone, but most would consider me far to young to have a mate. I am hardly more than a child here. But more than a mate, I want a friend. I want to be able to talk with someone who won't judge me for being a halfling, who won't look at me as though I am something disgusting, ugly, or potentially evil.

Sorin wraps me in the warmth of his mind. Well no matter what others may think, I know that you are a pure and beautiful person, both inside and out. You have the beauty, strength and grace of the elves, but the unrestrained emotions and curiosity of a human. You embody the best qualities of both races, and since you have the blood of both, you do not judge them with prejudice.

Thank you Sorin, even if you are highly biased in my favor. With that last thought, Sorin and I stop speaking, so that he can devote his attention to welcoming Eragon and Saphira.

A few hours pass uneventfully, though I do manage to harvest every plant in my garden. I hang up half of them to dry, and the other half are put into jars full of water. The drying herbs are for poultices and ointments, while the ones in the jars are for medicinal teas and oils.

But the peace does not last, for my grandfather calls on me, his voice echoing in my mind. Ciara, I am with Eragon in my house. Will you come to meet him?

The suddenness of the invitation gives me pause. Very well, I will join you shortly and meet with him. But please, do not tell him anything. I would rather not be laden with expectations, only to fail.

Very well… Grandfather's presence disappears from my mind, once again leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I clean off my clothes before walking outside and finding Sorin waiting to fly me to Oromis' house. Well isn't this perfect timing. I send him a flash of amusement, which he returns tenfold.

I climb into the saddle and Sorin takes off into the air. The wind whips through my hair, giving me a feeling of exhilaration. I've always loved it in the air, there is no other place where I can feel so free. It is easy to understand why Sorin enjoys spending most of his time away from the ground.

I smile to myself and I enjoy the short flight up the crags and we land with a deafening thud. You didn't have to land so loudly. Are you trying to let the whole forest know of your excitement?

No, I just thought that we should announce ourselves loudly. It can never be said that Sorin does not behave like a dragon. In fact, he flaunts it at every opportunity.

I swat Sorin's head when he turns his neck to look back at me. "You didn't have to do that and you know it." I slide out of the saddle and walk to the door of the hut. It is slightly ajar so I let myself in and hear voices upstairs. Grandfather, I'm here.

Good, come up now, we are having lunch.

I climb up the stairs and onto the top floor, which is open to the sky and has trees growing everywhere. I see them sitting at the table, eating their lunch. Sorin, they are up here, would you fly up here?

Of course, but they won't bite.

Reassured slightly by his joke, I slowly approach the table. The boy turns his head to look at me. "Oh, hello." He turns to Oromis. "Who is this?"

Oromis smiles, so I speak up. "My name is Ciara, I am your new teacher's granddaughter. I'm also-"

Sorin suddenly flies up and lands right behind me, startling me slightly and annoying me yet again. "I am also this fool's partner." I point at Sorin. "I'm sorry for his attitude, he may be five years old but he is still rather juvenile. I try to make him calm down, but he refuses to listen."

The boy's mouth drops open and his eyes shine with delight. "You're a Rider! Master Oromis told me that there was another Rider here, but that she was very shy. He told me to wait until she came to meet me." Then he jolts for some reason. "Oh, sorry. I'm Eragon."

I smile at him. "I apologize for not coming to greet you when you arrived." My eyes slide downwards and to the left. "I tend to do very badly around others. Because of that, I spend most of my time alone or with Sorin."

Oromis pulls out a chair for me and sets down a plate of food. "Come sit my dear, we have much to discuss with Eragon."

I sit down lightly and listen as Oromis answers every question that Eragon has on his mind. And I heard details about Brom and Morzan that I had never thought to ask about. Oromis spoke about the creation of the Varden, as well as Brom's past as his own apprentice.

"Another thing you should know is that in the battle that killed Morzan, My son and his mate were also killed, though by Galbatorix. Brom barely escaped with his life, my son was not so lucky. Braelen, and his mate, the human princess Gailia, went to battle against Galbatorix." Oromis looks at me sadly. "Ciara was only days old at the time. I have raised her ever since, but she lost her parents to Galbatorix almost immediately. And through a twist of fate, the egg left behind by their dragons hatched for her."

Eragon looks at me with shock on his face. "Why did they go if they had a newborn baby? Shouldn't they have stayed to take care of her?"

Oromis shakes his head. "They were not expecting that battle to be their last. They had flown to Brom's aid, but Galbatorix made an unexpected appearance immediately after Morzan's death. And while Brom managed to escape, Braelen was caught in battle with Galbatorix. Gailia refused to abandon him, and thus, they died together. Though before his death, my son was able to use magic to send their weapons here." He nods at Sorin. "They are sheathed in that saddle. Each is a one-handed blade, which is why Ciara carries both. Though she does not yet know how to use them."

A moment later, we hear sounds coming from below, and Oromis turns to Eragon. "Are you aware of what Saphira is attempting?"

Eragon closes his eyes, and they twitch suddenly beneath his eyelids, before her pens them once more. "I think…that she is trying to convince Glaedr to play with her."

"I see…" As usual, Oromis' tone is nearly impossible to interpret. More often than not, I will not know whether he is praising me, or merely making observations.

As Sorin begins to roll around, bored out of his skull, I prod at his mind. Is everything alright?

If a dragon can sigh, I do believe that he just did. Yes…I simply feel restless. You two-legs take quite a while to eat and converse.

Very well, I'll hurry this along. With a wave of my hand, I clear the droplets of juice, left behind by the fruits, from the surface of my plate. "Excuse me, there is something I must attend to."

Eragon nods, looking at me curiously. "Then I will see you tomorrow?"

Glancing back at him, I nod. "Perhaps." Retreating to wher Sorin is restlessly bathing in the sun, I climb onto his back, strap myself into the saddle. and reach into his mind. Alright fine, let's go on a short flight shall we?

Good, I was getting incredibly bored.

Yes…I could tell. I turn to look at Oromis. "Sorin and I are going flying. I will take my mirror with us, just in case there is an emergency."

He nods. "Then bring me back a bag of elderberries, I've run out of ingredients for the faelnirv."

I nod. "In that case I will bring you back two bags, as well as some of the wild herbs from the outskirts." I tap Sorin's mind and he takes off into the sky. Well that was interesting. That Eragon, he didn't even comment on my mixed parentage.

It seems like this is the friend you have been hoping for. Apart from me of course.

Sorin, you are not my friend. You are something far more than that. You are my soul's partner, my other half, the one thing in nature that makes me whole. Friend is an inadequate word to describe what you are to me.

I am your dragon, and you are my Rider. Together, we form one being, a whole that cannot be broken except for in death. And we shall not die apart, be certain of that.

We fly all the way to the outskirts of the city, sing the elderberries from the bushes, fill a whole two bags with them, then move on to the herb patches. When I have enough herbs for Oromis and myself, I sing some seeds out of the plants so that I can plant them later in my garden. One never knows when a new herb may come in handy. Or when it might just save your life.


	3. Chapter 3

A day later, Oromis calls me to demonstrate all four levels of the Rimgar to Eragon, as well as to help him learn how to do the stretches. Oromis teaches him at first, then allows me to take over, owing to my considerable flexibility, superior even to Grandfather's.

Afterwards, Eragon goes off to bathe. Though since it was only the first level of the Rimgar that I worked on with him, I have no sweat on my body. I do note that he has very little flexibility, and his moments are rather stiff, probably due to a past injury. Oromis had told me about the injury incurred at Farthen Dur, but I am still unaware of exactly what kind of injury it is, as well as its severity.

Time passes unchecked in the vast forests of Du Weldenvarden. My garden blooms with the new herbs and flowers that I spend my days collecting. And in the middle of one particularly stormy night, Saphira loudly calls for help.

 _Miss Ciara! Please come help! Eragon is having another of his attacks, and I cannot find any way to help him!_

I tumble out of bed and grab my medical bag. _Saphira, guide me to your location. I will be as fast as possible._

 _Do you know how to help him?_

 _Not yet, but I should be able to find a solution quickly. I am a very accomplished magic user, even without Sorin. And my specialty is healing magic._

 _You are a healer?_ Her joy is obvious. _Then please come quickly, we are in the house by the river._

With her guiding my way, I find the house in a matter of minutes. I sprint up the stairs and find Eragon convulsing on the floor. He seems barely conscious, so I use magic to immobilize him while I relieve his pain and stop his spasms. I sing over him, weaving spells and enchantments around him to try and break this Shade curse. But to no avail, the magic needed to break the curse is beyond me.

"Calm the fear and shut out the darkness, be still and be well. Know peace and let your body sleep as your mind dreams." I manage to calm his body, relieve his pain and alleviate the symptoms. But beyond that, there is nothing that I can do for him.

 _Saphira, call for me whenever he has one of these attacks. I cannot heal him permanently, but I can calm his attacks as they come._

Her gratitude radiates towards me. _Thank you for your help. I cannot bear to see him in pain._

 _I don't dare move him, it might cause him to have another attack. It will be best to wait until he awakens._ I make my way to the far side of the room and close the magical membrane, bringing up the temperature of the room. _I will leave now, tell me if this happens again._

Saphira curls up around Eragon as I leave. With this new development, it seems that my skills as a healer will be tested many times in the coming weeks and months. And I make a decision to study his ailment and see if I can come up with a more permanent solution. Because as he is, he will be unable to fulfill his duties as a Rider. And I am not ready to shoulder the burden by myself.

Around midday, I go to watch Eragon and Oromis cross blades. Oromis wants me to watch so that I can get a good look at how swords are used. And I have never seen my grandfather actually wield Naegling, his gold and bronze sword. But after twenty minutes, everything goes wrong. Oromis' illness shows its symptoms, and when Eragon uses that chance to launch a counter attack, he twists too far and fall to the ground in another fit.

I race to his side and start singing the same enchantments as last night. I add in a few enchantments to alleviate Oromis' discomfort as well. I sing for several minutes, weaving magic through the air and using all of my knowledge of healing spells to find one that might work better than the others.

"Thank you Ciara, your help is much appreciated." Oromis sighs and lowers himself to the ground. "Be careful not to overextend yourself, otherwise you could cause irreparable damage to yourself."

"I'm fine Grandfather, you are the ones who need attention, not me."

When Eragon finally calms down, he swats my hand away and storms off angrily. His anger is understandable. The curse is preventing him from moving as he is used to, which must frustrate him to no end.

Oromis dismisses me and I return to my home to look through scrolls and books about Shades and their unique brand of magic. Perhaps I will stumble across a hint of how to dispel this curse from Eragon, and perhaps a way to heal the scar on his back.

In the morning, as promised, I go to the practice field to watch Eragon spar with one of the younger elves here in Ellesmera, Vanir of House Haldthin. And as I watch, Vanir easily disarms Eragon, wrenching his wrist and causing obvious pain, before placing his sword to Eragon's neck.

Vanir calls Eragon a weak, thin blooded human, and a coward. And he insults Eragon further, saying that Galbatorix's influence made Saphira make a poor choice of Rider. I immediately stride forward, but Eragon attacks Vanir ferociously, stopping only when he has another seizure.

"Eragon!" I cry out. I run across the grass and kneel by his side.

"And so appears the dirty blooded Rider." Vanir sneers at me. "A weak and useless little girl like you brings shame to the Riders of old. You may be able to use magic, but you've never even bothered to train in any of the many arts of war. You hate conflict and try to solve all your problems with healing magic and kind words." He spits on the ground next to my feet. "Useless halfling."

I wish I could say that I handled it maturely, but I didn't. With only a few silent words, I string Vanir up in the air and glare at him with rage building inside of me. "Do not underestimate me. I know more about magic than you ever will. I am a stronger spell-caster than you, even without my dragon. I may be half human and half elf, but my blood is the blood of Riders."

I drop Vanir on the ground and turn my attention to Eragon. I sing spells over him, bringing his seizures to a close and calming him. Eragon sits up and wipes blood from his mouth, asking Vanir if it is thin enough. But Vanir turns away without another word.

Eragon wants to keep fighting, but Vanir declines, saying that Eragon is in no condition to fight. But with Eragon determined to complete the hour of training, they fight again. And Vanir wins over and over again, but Eragon refuses to give up until the hour is over.

At the end of the fight, Saphira marches up to Vanir and puts a single talon on his chest, pronouncing him to be dead, just as he had said to Eragon every time he struck what normally would have been a fatal blow. Vanir pales and Sorin growls at him, challenging all of the onlookers to continue Vanir's train of insults. All of the elves edge away and it feels good to have Vanir looking extremely uncomfortable.

Sorin scoops me up with his giant claws and cradles me gently as he soars away from the practice field. _One day they will see your true worth. One day, the whole world will see exactly what Ciara Thrandurin can do, and our enemies will cower in fear._

I lean against the huge talons and start to drift away. _But how long will it take for the insults to stop? How long will I have to wait for people who will accept me as I am, instead of seeing me as someone caught halfway between two worlds that refuse to coexist? I am the only halfling in all of recorded history, thus, I am alone._ I drift into sleep, with tears falling down my face.

I seclude myself in my home, avoiding contact with everyone, emerging only to tend to Eragon when he requires medical attention. Though a dwarf comes to visit me, a companion of Eragon's named Orik. His stories about the dwarf kingdom are incredible, and he tells me all about how they build their cities and mine their gems and ores. I seem to alleviate his boredom, since he has very little to do while here in Ellesmera and so far from his own home.

I also spend my time preparing a song for the Agaeti Blodhren. I will perform my own song once, then take my leave of the celebration, because I am well aware that my presence is unwelcome with many of the elves. I spend days writing the lyrics, and days more composing a tune that will carry my song outside of myself for all to hear.

As the days slip by, the Blood-Oath Celebration approaches. The celebration happens once a century, so this will be my first time at the event. And it will likely be my last time at the celebration, for in a century, either Galbatorix will have overrun and enslaved or slaughtered us. Or Galbatorix will be dead and I will have left this place.

When the celebration finally arrives, every elf within twenty leagues is in Ellesmera for the grand event. The hundreds of tables around the Menoa tree have piles of food on them, and songs echo throughout the many clearings under the shade of the tree.

I find myself mostly curled up with Sorin, watching the proceedings as many elves present poems, stories, songs, pieces of art, and other such items for the festivities. And I remember dancing with Eragon to a host of lively songs.

When Islanzadi asks me to perform the song that I have been working on, Sorin confesses to having told the queen. And so, before a rapt audience, I let my voice rise and fall as I sing a song of love and loss, a song about my parents flying away and never coming home. And despite not having the flute like qualities to my voice like most elves, my voice is more like the higher pitches of a softly blown trumpet.

Poems and pieces of art come from all corners of the forest. And when Eragon and Saphira present their pieces, everyone is highly impressed. Saphira's sculpture, made from licking molten rock, glows gold and cherry red with small tongues of fire. And Eragon's poem, chanted in the way of certain human ballads, gives listeners a good idea of exactly how much he has gone through since Saphira hatched.

And so begins the main event. The Caretakers, Iduna and Neya perform a dance, and as the music increases in speed, the dragon tattoo on their bodies comes to life. The dragon, with scales in every possible color, approaches Eragon. It touches his brow and Eragon immediately faints.

With shock and confusion ringing the glade, I rush to Eragon's side and examine him. He body is starting to change rapidly, so I have Saphira gather him up and I run alongside her all the way to their home here in Ellesmera. She leaves quickly to go complete the ceremony, so I stay with Eragon a while and make sure that he is in no danger.

I leave after a half hour and Sorin finds me first, curling himself around me and humming so loudly that his entire body vibrates. But to my dismay, I soon overhear Eragon trying to woo Arya. All of my hopes for finally finding a mate are dashed.

 _Sorin, will I ever find someone who is right for me?_

Sorin cuddles me gently in his warm body. _You and I will live for many long years. Perhaps one day, someone suited for you will appear. You can be as picky as you like, because an immortal can afford to wait._


	4. Chapter 4

Since my skills with blades are those of a novice, Orik offers to teach me some of what he knows about weapons. We spend two days and countless hours drilling various styles of swordsmanship into my head. And Orik even helps me to develop a style of my own that takes my dual blades into account. I train from sun-up to sundown, under Orik's careful eye.

One morning, after a long and hard training session with Orik, in which I finally manage to improve enough to give him a good thrashing, even with him wielding an axe, Eragon arrives at the practice field. He looks much more like an elf, which still surprises me somewhat.

Vanir takes his place opposite Eragon, but their match is quickly postponed, because Eragon swings his sword with such surprising strength, that it flies from his hand and lodges firmly in a tree. To dislodge the blade, Vanir exerts a huge amount of effort, proving that Eragon's change includes the physical abilities of an elf.

It quickly becomes apparent who the better swordsman is. With their bodies evenly matched, the same speed and strength, it is now all about skill. Eragon easily fends off Vanir and with a single strike, breaks one of the bones in Vanir's right arm, causing him to drop his sword.

Unexpectedly, Vanir decides to defer to Eragon with an unprecedented level of respect. He also opts to let his arm heal at a natural pace, as a keepsake from their duel. But with Vanir bowing out to take care of his wound, Eragon is left without a practice partner.

When I volunteer to practice with him, Eragon raises an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I have the speed and strength of an elf now. I doubt that you could win against my experience."

I shake my head. "I don't expect to win, but I hope to improve somewhat."

"I see." Eragon smiles at me. "Alright then, let's get to work."

For a few hours, Eragon and I practice. He teaches me thrusts, jabs, cuts, slashes, as well as proper posture and stances. With me quickly learning the basics, all I really need to improve is experience and creativity. But technical skill is not something easily acquired, and I am not foolish enough to believe that it is something I can just simply learn. It will take many months of practice in order for me to achieve the same level of skill as Eragon.

I return to my house and replenish the supplies in my medical kit. And I soon hear Eragon and Saphira tromping around the forest in a panic. In order to find out what is going on, I run over to them and nearly run right into Eragon.

"Eragon, what is going on? The two of you are making a huge amount of noise, I heard you all the way from my house."

He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but Saphira and I have to leave. The Varden is in trouble and they need us there."

I bite my lip, then make a fast decision. "Alright, in that case, I'll go as well."

Eragon looks stunned by my decision. "What? No, you should stay here. Oromis will be angry if you leave without permission."

"I don't need permission. I am a Rider in full, I completed my training a long time ago. I've been sitting here, waiting for something interesting to happen. Now that there is finally something to do, I can't just wait around to see how it plays out." I stare him down and show him exactly how determined I am. "If you have a problem with that, then you can stay here while I go."

His look of shock turns into a grin. "Alright, I suppose you have a point. We leave as soon as we're all ready to go."

I nod. "Then give me a little time to pack my things, saddle Sorin and say goodbye to my grandfather."

Eragon nods and runs off, leaving me to walk up to my grandfather's hut alone. I find him sitting inside at the table. He looks up at me and his expression tells me that he already knows what I am going to say. But I say it anyway.

"Grandfather, I'm going to go to Surda with Eragon."

He nods. "I knew the day would come when you would decide to get yourself involved in the affairs of the world. I just hoped that I'd managed to prepare you enough for the hardships and problems that you will face out there." He rises from his chair and slowly walks to me. "I have raised you for fifteen years, and trained you for five, knowing that this day would come." He embraces me and gives me a sad smile. "Do your duty as a Rider, but do not forget who you are in the process."

I nod and give him a determined smile. "I promise to do my best."

With one last embrace, I break away from my grandfather and race back to my home. I quickly pack my own specially crafted leather armor into a bag, along with my medical kit. With one piercing thought, I call Sorin to the practice field where Eragon, Saphira and Orik are waiting for me.

"I'm ready to go!"

Eragon nods. "Then it is time to fly."

As Sorin swoops down, I see that he is already saddled and ready to leave. _Who put on your saddle?_

 _Eragon did, he said that you wanted to go to the Varden as well, then said that he also wanted to practice putting on these big saddles. So I let him put on the saddle. Are we really getting out of here?_

 _Yeah, it's time to go help alter the fate of Alagaesia._

I climb up Sorin's leg and fasten myself into the saddle. I also buckle the bag to the saddle and secure it firmly so that nothing can fall out, even if we start to spin in midair. Sorin rears and jumps into the sky, quickly catching up with Saphira. My hair streams out behind me as we fly through the air.

Eragon, Orik and Saphira pass the time by asking each other riddles. And while I do answer a few that are too difficult for the others to answer, Sorin and I spend most of our time taking in the sight of the land rushing under us. Being raised in Ellesmera was nice, but we never got the opportunity to travel outside of the forest. Thus, seeing Alagaesia for the first time is mind boggling.

The first night is spent in fields that separate the forest from the desert, and the second night is spent in the dry and hot desert. But on our third day of traveling, a warm breeze turns into a powerful gust of wind, carrying us far to the south and straight out of the desert.

Late in the fourth day of traveling, we make it to Aberon, the capital of Surda. Sorin lands outside of the city, keeping us hidden while Eragon goes inside to find out where his liege lord Nasuada is. I am still a secret to everyone outside of the forest, so keeping me a secret until we reach the Varden is the agreed upon course of action.

Eragon returns with news on Nasuada's whereabouts so we take off again and head for Du Vollar Eldrvarya, The Burning Plains. We fly through the night, not bothering to stop and rest. Sorin and I feel a new excitement pulsing through us, as though our blood has been imbued with a new magic.

We arrive at The Burning Plains. But Eragon takes charge here. _Ciara, Sorin, stay above the clouds until I give the word. The members of the Varden will recognize us, but not the two of you. Stay up here until I warn Nasuada and the warriors that I brought reinforcements._

 _As you say, Eragon. We will wait here for your call._

And so, we wait above the clouds for over ten minutes while Eragon makes his way into the camp and explains the situation. And just as I start to get rather bored, his call comes and Sorin bursts out of the clouds with a rather enthusiastic roar.

Sorin lands powerfully in the middle of the camp, where there is a large open area that won't provide anything for him to knock over. Gasps and concerned mutters come from all directions, so I unstrap myself from the saddle and jump off Sorin's back, my green clothes fluttering in the breeze.

I see Eragon standing next to a woman with skin as dark as the soil in my garden. I stop in front of her, Eragon shoots me a knowing smile. "And this is the reinforcements I was referring to. Though I suppose that I should leave introductions between the two of you."

The woman nods. "I am Nasuada, leader of the Varden and commander of the armies of Surda." Her voice and bearing radiate a sense of power and respect.

I incline my head, showing a modicum of respect. "I am Ciara of House Thrandurin." I turn to Sorin, who lowers his head to eye level, staring at Nasuada. "And this is Sorin, though I'm sure that he would prefer to introduce himself."

Sorin moves his head close to Nasuada and regards her with his large green eyes. _Well met Lady Nasuada, I am Sorin, son of Zegethar and Turina._

Nasuada looks slightly surprised. "And well met to you Sorin." She looks at me very carefully. "You seem very young, even for an elf. And yet, you do not look quite like an elf."

I nod slightly. "That is because I am indeed young, I am not yet sixteen. And my appearance is a complicated matter because I am the only halfling in all of recorded history." My eyes burn with my inner fire. "I am half elf, my father was Braelen, an elven Rider of House Thrandurin. And I am half human, my mother was a human rider, Gailia, the sister of the late King Angrenost."

Eragon's mouth drops open and Nasuada looks stunned. "You mean to say that you are the niece of the former king?"

"Yes." My expression darkens. "Galbatorix is the one sitting on my uncle's throne, wearing a crown that does not belong to him. He is also the one who murdered my parents. He destroyed the Riders, exterminated the dragons, and caused more pain and misery to this world than anyone should be able to. Thus, I have many reasons to want him dead."

Nasuada nods in agreement. "In that case, welcome, Lady Ciara. I'm sure that your aid will be invaluable. Are you an able spell-caster?"

Eragon laughs hysterically. "An able spell-caster? I'm many times stronger than I was before, but in terms of casting spells, I cannot hold a candle to her. Calling her an able spell-caster is like calling the elves a bit stronger than humans, or saying that they have rather long lives."

"What he means to say is that with my elven strength, my naturally high ability to use magic, and the extra strength that my dragon allocates to me, I am one of the strongest spell-casters, if not the strongest he has ever seen." I pat Sorin's head right above his eyes. "Thanks to Eragon, I have been training in the arts of war, but my specialty lies elsewhere, which is something that you will find useful after the battles."

Nasuada's eyes start to gleam. "I will have a tent set up for you right away, and of course the area around it will be clear so that Sorin can be by your side at all times."

"Thank you." I smile and nod. "Oh, and just so that I know for the future, where is your infirmary located?"

Nasuada tilts her head. "Why do you ask?"

Eragon interrupts me before I can explain. "Her specialty is healing. And not just simple cuts and bruises, but serious wounds like broken bones and damaged organs. And even mixing antidotes to complex poisons, she has a whole garden back in Ellesmera full of healing herbs. Her abilities are incredible, and her knowledge of the healing arts are second to none."

Nasuada nods enthusiastically. "In that case, the infirmary is to the south, there is a large flag outside of it, along with piles of stretchers. There should only be a few people inside, including some who have been injured while trying to calm some runaway horses."

"In that case, I shall go see what I can do for them." I turn to the south and stride off without another word, walking for quite a while until I find a rather large tent with piles of at least thirty stretchers around the entrance. I duck inside and find half a dozen men with broken bones and some with openly bleeding wounds. One person is trying to tend to them with magic, but obviously failing. So I reach out my mind to them in preparation to help.

"What are you doing?" The healer spins around in alarm and I feel him trying to attack my mind. I fend him off easily. "Please wait. I arrived with Eragon, Nasuada gave me directions to this tent. I mean you no harm."

The attack abates and the man speaks with a rough accent. "Is that the truth?"

I nod and pull back my hair, revealing my pointed ears. "I've been in Du Weldenvarden my whole life, but I specialize in healing. I asked to see the infirmary so that I could see if I could help."

He nods. "Fine then."

As he backs away from the injured, I take a look at each of them, noting their conditions and deciding on what spells would best for me to use, which takes me quite some time. Once I finish examining them, I close my eyes and start to sing. I sing of bone and muscle, nerves and skin. I sing so that they might forget the pain that has put them here. I walk gracefully through the rows of beds and spread the magic out over all of them, losing myself in the music.

"Are you Lady Ciara?"

I open my eyes and mind to find that half a dozen spell-casters have entered the tent. "That is correct. Did Eragon send you?"

The one in the lead nods. "He taught us some new spells for healing, but said that we should ask you about learning more."

I nod. "Healing magic is my specialty, I am also quite adept at mixing both poisons and antidotes, as well as medicines for a variety of ailments. If Eragon has sent you to me, then he must want you to be very proficient in this area."

And so, with their consent, I enter their minds and give them a whole list of spells to use in cases that require magical medical attention. I also batter at their minds, training them to strengthen their mental fortitude in case an enemy magician attacks.

 _Ciara? Can you come to Nasuada's pavilion? There are Urgals coming to seek an audience with her and I fear for her safety. Also, the commanders and important people would like to meet you._

 _Very well, I will be there as swiftly as I am able._ I turn my attention to the spell-casters. "Eragon has called for me, therefore I must leave. Call for me if anything goes amiss, I will advise you on what to do."

I sprint out of the tent and follow Eragon's tendril of thought until I reach a large white tent. I make my way inside, only to be greeted with blades.

"Stop! She is with me." Eragon steps forward and the men lower their blades. "Thank you for coming so quickly Ciara, did it go well in the infirmary?"

I nod. "As well as it could have. But their ability to touch magic is very limited, which frustrates me a little."

Eragon stifles a laugh. "Your markings are glowing crimson. You seem to be underestimating your frustration."

"Alright, so what is this about Urgals?"

Nasuada sits forward in her chair. "A delegation of Urgals are arriving under the white flag of peace. They want an audience with me. What do you think?"

"Tell her that it's a bad idea!" Eragon looks at me frantically. "You know that it's a bad idea."

I consider it for a moment. "If it is a small group, I see no harm in meeting with them. If they mean any actual harm, killing them will be easy. If they are here for diplomatic reasons, then all I can think of is that they want to either have a truce or alliance with you. And in either case, the potential benefits outweigh the possible consequences." I nod at her. "I would meet with them. But if you feel unsafe, I can call Sorin here and have him lie menacingly outside of the tent."

Nasuada smiles. "I agree with your views." She stops Eragon from protesting with a single look. "Will you remain here for the proceedings? I would feel better with an experienced spell-caster here."

I nod. "If it pleases you."

She points me to a chair near her and has her guards open the front and sides of the tent so that anyone passing by may witness her meeting with the Urgals. Eragon stands by Nasuada's side and Saphira lies on the ground by his side.

I have never seen an Urgal before, so I feel a bit of a thrill when the eight foot tall, grey-skinned, horned being approaches the tent. Judging by the size, he must be what is called a Kull. He approaches Nasuada, breathes in deeply, then roars at her until his lungs are finally emptied of air. And because of this rather unconventional greeting, Nasuada's guards all point their weapons at the Kull.

He calls her Lady Nightstalker and asks why he is being treated so. I give Eragon a mental nudge, so he leans down to Nasuada's ear and tells her that the roar is how Urgal war chiefs greet each other, though suggests that she not complete the ritual by butting heads with him. The guards hesitantly lower their weapons and the Urgal introduces himself as Nar Garzhvog of the Bolvek tribe.

Garzhvog tells Nasuada about Galbatorix's deception and the mind controlled used by the Shade called Durza. Then he outlines what he wants, Galbatorix's blood, and lands to house and feed his people. In exchange, he and his warriors will join the fight against the Empire.

"What do you think Ciara?" Nasuada asks me as though testing me, and as if to use my words to defend her opinion.

With my mind calm and clear, I give her as good an answer as I can think of. "This is not impertinence, but an actual concern. Is this army in a position to turn away potential allies or not? Because if not, then turning down this arrangement would be very unwise. And even if it is in a position to turn away allies, I would still advise against it in the face of a common enemy."

Nasuada nods. "I agree." Eragon and one of Nasuada's commanders immediately try to argue with her, but she uses logic and hard facts to make her decision. She accepts the alliance and Garzhvog uses a gesture of respect in addressing her. The details of the pact are to be decided at a later date.

An argument breaks out in the tent after Garzhvog leaves to rejoin his warriors, including the Surdan king barging into the tent. But the argument is short lived as a sentry arrives with a warning of a horseman from the Empire approaching the camp.

Eragon and I rush out of the tent and climb onto our dragons. Saphira stays on the ground, but Sorin takes to the sky and circles low over the camp, giving me a good vantage point of the ensuing chaos. The horseman delivers a threat from Galbatorix, then throws over the severed head of Nasuada's envoy. As the horseman rides away, Saphira roars in defiance, terrifying the horse and causing it to fall to the ground, propelling the horseman into a fire produced by the smoldering peat in the ground. Cheers erupt from the Varden and Sorin lets out a roar of his own, which shakes the ground and makes the air vibrate so much that my head feels funny.

 _Easy now, the fighting will come soon enough Sorin._

 _I know, but I can't help it. The fire in my bones feels even hotter than ever. We will finally have a say in our futures, and I intend to make Galbatorix pay for what he has done. He will pay with his life for all the despair and destruction he has caused since the Fall._

Sorin finally lands after an hour of flying around. I don't complain about the length of the flight, since I know that it is just a way for him to get all of his agitation out of his system. And dealing with an agitated dragon is not my favorite thing to do. And by the time we land, the sky has gone dark, stars twinkle faintly through the haze of smog from the smoldering peat that gives the Burning Plains its name.

Since my body thrums with energy, I go to my tent and open the bag that holds my armor and medical bag. I strap on my armor and attach my medical bag to my hip. I slide my quiver into straps on my back, and slip my triple curved yew bow into a sheath on the quiver. In the sheaths under my quiver are my swords. In essence, all of my weapons are on my back in a quickly accessible place.

I suddenly feels chills run through my body. The effects from healing the injured earlier are starting to kick in. I absorb the pain and suffering in the form of memories, and those memories haunt me. With just Eragon, I nearly went mad with the anguish from his curse, but I steel myself against what I'm sure I will have to face in these future battles.


	5. Chapter 5

I meet with Nasuada, which is when she decides to make me known. "This is King Orrin of Surda." She nods at the dark skinned man beside her, then at me. "Your Majesty, this is Lady Ciara, the niece of King Angrenost." Then a look of shock crosses her face. "Ah. I'm sorry, I haven't asked you what title you prefer."

I shake my head. "Titles mean nothing to me. I am a princess by human standards, as well as by elven standards. But I make no claims to any throne, and why should I? Humans see me as strange and suspicious because I am half elf. The elves treat me as inferior because of my human blood. My titles will only put me in a very uncomfortable spotlight. I prefer simply being called Ciara, but if you absolutely must call me by a title, Shur'tugal or Dragon Rider will do, Princess or Lady if you absolutely must be formal."

Nasuada nods as if she understands my thoughts. "Very well, Ciara it is."

Orrin finally opens his mouth to speak. "So, you are a Rider. You seem awfully young to be getting into a war. Do you have any experience in a real battle?"

"No." I decide to just get the truth out. "I have never been in battle before. Do you doubt my abilities because of that?"

"Yes." He looks at me very candidly. "How can you be of any help in a battle if you have never even seen a hint of war before? And how can we trust you? You could be one of Galbatorix's agents, infiltrating our ranks. I've only ever heard of three eggs, one of which contained Saphira."

I nod. "A valid concern. Though to allay your fears, Sorin hatched for me when I was ten years old. The egg was laid by my mother's dragon. It was kept secret until I found it by accident, and thus, Sorin hatched for me. As for deceptions, you will find that it is not possible for me to lie convincingly."

Orrin frowns. "But aren't elves very good at keeping their expressions under control? I imagine that you share that trait with them."

"Indeed, I can keep my face expressionless, with some effort." I brush my hair back and outline my pigmented designs. "These are rather like tattoos, something that I found pleasing to the eyes, and so added to my face. Sorin accidentally cast magic on them when he was two years old, which makes them change color according to my emotions. Because of that incident, my emotions give me away if I try to lie, which is why I gave up trying to lie."

Orrin looks shocked, which means that I've gotten the upper hand. "I didn't realize that such a thing was possible."

I cross my arms and smile, my markings turn orange with amusement. "When a dragon is involved, you'll find that very little is impossible."

I turn on my heel and stride towards Sorin. Since he is quite bored, I spend hours reading to him from a few of the scrolls that I brought with me from Du Weldenvarden. And so, time passes until, near dawn, cries echo across the plains. This is my first time hearing the cries of dying men, and I'm sure that there is much more to come.

As dawn comes, I tighten Sorin's saddle and fidget with impatience and apprehension. I feel both excited for battle, but afraid of the vast waves of death that will surely wash over this poisonous landscape. This place is one of sorrow and blood, and it seems that it will once again be a place of great bloodshed, as it was in the time of the wars of the elves and dragons.

Nasuada rallies the troops as the sun breaks over the land, and with her powerful words, Saphira and Sorin roar into the sky. Sorin takes a running start and catapults us into the air, giving me a feeling of freedom and power. With my high vantage point, I quickly start searching for magicians while Sorin flies over the battle, roasting entire ranks of soldiers, then flying back up high to avoid arrows.

 _Ciara! Can you take care of the magicians further away? I'm disabling catapults now and can't reach far enough to_ _tackle the magicians' minds._ Eragon's voice echoes in my head.

 _Of course I can, they pose no threat to me._ I immediately stretch out my mind and drive at the minds of the enemy magicians. In short order, I find half a dozen magicians and use a single word to slay all of them after conquering their thoughts. Their mistake was to treat me as a normal spell-caster. For any human who ventures into the mind of an elf does not escape unscathed.

As Sorin twirls through the air, I use my bow to pick off men that I identify as officers of the Empire's army. Despite the numbers that we manage to kill, there are still tens of thousands more. Then I come up with a brilliant idea.

 _Sorin, can you light the peat underground near the back of the army?_

 _Oh, I really do love the way you think. How clever, to use the landscape itself as a weapon._ He turns into a dive and flares his wings as he glides quickly over the back of the battlefield, shooting emerald fire into the ground and lighting the flammable substances underground. All at once, a section of the ground erupts in fire, burning a battalion of soldiers to a crisp.

 _Eragon, warn Nasuada that the battlefield has become more volatile, Sorin and I managed to light the peat at the far end, which leaves the Empire's army in a dangerous location._

I hear his admiration radiate towards me. _Dangerous, but genius. I can see where you get it from._

But as the hours drag on, Sorin begins to tire, and Eragon needs someone to fight by his side. So I have Sorin land and instead shoot blasts of fire from the back lines of the Varden's army. I run to Eragon's side and cut down soldiers bearing down on him.

Orik shakes his hammer at me. "Well met My Lady."

I nod at him and his warriors, then turn to Eragon. "Sorin is tiring, this battle needs to end soon. We are not accustomed to spending so much energy in such a short period of time. And the flight here took its toll on him, though he won't admit to it."

Eragon agrees silently, then pushes me to the side and runs a soldier through with Zar'roc. "Even if you're tired, pay attention. You'll do no good to anyone if you get yourself skewered."

Bolstered by his comment, I spin around and leap forward at the ranks of soldiers. I spin quickly and there is soon a circle of devastation around me. Dozens of soldiers lie dead as I swing Treban abr Wyrda and Kvistr abr Mor'ranr around me, the swords left to me by my parents. They flash green and silver as I dance through the battle, and flecks of scarlet blood trace lines up and down my armor.

War horns suddenly sound across the plains, and I have never heard horns of that nature before. Eragon and Orik start shouting about the dwarves arriving, that the entire dwarven army has come from Farthen Dur. I take the news well and so does Sorin. With his energy replenished somewhat, he jumps into the air and scoops me up, giving me a good view of the battlefield and the approaching army.

Eragon flies off on Saphira to take care of a boat coming up the Jiet River, so I have Sorin take me to meet this army of dwarves. Sorin flies me over carefully and sets me down in front of what seems to be the dwarven king, clad in golden armor.

I pull down my hood and greet them in dwarvish. "Greetings to the dwarves, and welcome to The Burning Plains."

The dwarves look at Sorin in astonishment, but it is the one in golden armor who steps forward to speak. "It seems that Eragon has found quite a linguistically talented ally among the elves."

I nod in agreement. "I am Ciara, Princess of House Thrandurin and niece of the late King Angrenost. The enormous green dragon behind me is my partner Sorin."

The dwarf lifts his war-hammer heartily. "I am Hrothgar, king of the dwarves. It is good to meet you My Lady."

Sorin lowers his head to rest his nose in front of the king. _Well met Your Majesty. I am Sorin. And I have never seen armor such as yours, isn't it rather heavy?_

I swat Sorin on the nose as Hrothgar laughs. "That it is, but it will terrify enemies on the battlefield."

 _Ciara! The boat should be turning back. It seems that my cousin brought all of Carvahall with him on this escapade. And we need you back on the battlefield,_

I look off towards the battle and climb back up into the saddle. "It seems war waits for no one. May you and your kin win much glory today!" Sorin takes off again and the dwarves resume their march to the battlefield. Though we fly over them until they reach Eragon and Saphira.

"Eragon, Sorin and I are going on another round of the battlefield. Is there anything you want done about the ship? Sorin can tow it away from the battle if you want."

Eragon nods. "Please do. There are innocent people on that ship."

Sorin immediately flies toward the ship, passing close enough to it that I can jump off and land safely on the deck. I look around for ropes as people on the deck rush toward me in confusion. I find a multitude of ropes and start tying them to the ship. "Sorin! Catch!" I tie the ropes together and throw the knot high into the air. Sorin catches it and starts dragging the boat back up the river.

"Who the hell are you?" A man with brown hair and a beard marches up to me and glares at me. "Are you trying to kidnap everyone on this ship?"

"I'm trying to get all of you away from the battle." I look at him closely. "Are you Eragon's cousin?"

He nods. "Aye, I am Roran. And you are?"

I give him a wry smile. "I am his friend. My name is Ciara, I come from Ellesmera, the capitol of the elven kingdom of Du Weldenvarden. I offered to tow the ship away from the battle and Eragon accepted my offer."

"Hmph. That explains why you could jump off that dragon." He fingers a hammer at his belt. "I plan to join the battle. Are you going to stop me?"

"Is this your first war?"

He nods. "It is. Is that why you are going to stop me?"

I shake my head. "No, I don't plan on stopping you. This is my first war as well. Though I am much better equipped for it than you are." I touch the hammer and find that it is in relatively good shape. "Well it seems that your weapon of choice is sturdy enough. So why not. If you want to help change the fate of Alagaesia, then by all means, have at it."

Once the boat stops, Sorin anchors the ropes to the ground and walks along the side of the ship, giving me the chance to hop back onto his back and back into the battle. "Good luck to you Roran, and may we meet again when this battle is done!"

A roar echoes through the air, and it is neither Sorin nor Saphira. I look to the sky and see a dragon, ruby red, like a shining drop of blood. A beam of energy shoots from the Rider and hits Hrothgar. A dozen of his magicians die, trying to block the spell, but to no avail. The dwarven king falls to the ground under the magical assault, and Eragon screams at the Rider with hatred in his eyes.

Saphira and Eragon immediately fly into the air, prepared to kill the Rider to avenge Hrothgar. Sorin and I soar into the sky and bear down on this new pair, and thus a dance of death begins in the air, with three dragons and three Riders.

Saphira and the red dragon crash into each other, so I take the opportunity to assault the mind of the Rider. But his mind is confused, and as soon as I think I have him, voices swarm me and force me to let go of his mind. This Rider, this man, is unlike any I have ever encountered. Generally, in mental contests, I can emerge the victor easily. But something very wrong is going on, and I can't quite put my finger on it.

Eragon makes a dangerous maneuver to bring the red dragon to the ground. But it succeeds, so I forgive the idiot. As the two dragons land on a plateau, Sorin drops me on the ground and flies off to assist the magicians of Du Vrangr Gata, who are being besieged by two new and powerful magicians.

I make my way to Eragon's side, but after the other Rider somehow manages to heal his dragon in a matter of seconds, a feat that should be impossible, he becomes wary. Eragon charges forward and engages the other Rider in a duel.

Even with his elven strength and speed, Eragon cannot best this human Rider. Of course, Eragon has been fighting all day long, and his strength was exhausted by using wards. So once the Rider manages to drive Eragon to his knees, I intercept him and take over the duel.

"Leave him to me, Eragon." I advance on the Rider without mercy. "If he chooses to serve Galbatorix, then I want a crack at him too." Eragon tries to protest, but I ignore him.

This is where I get to put my practicing with Eragon to the test. All of those hours learning to fight will either show results now, or never. And so, I duel him to the best of my ability. His technical skill is amazing, even better than Eragon's. But my mental skills are far superior to his. And despite his attacks on my mind, I stay focused, even while my thoughts flit from movement to movement.

My speed and strength help me keep up with his complex movements, but with such an even match, we both end up with a few minor injuries. But as I hear Sorin roar in pain from across the battlefield, my concentration wavers and this Rider sticks a sword through me. The icy feel of steel slides through me and causes me to gasp in pain.

"Ciara!" Eragon cries out. But I can barely hear him. The blood is rushing in my ears, making it hard to hear anything.

The Rider pulls his sword out of me, slashes me across the chest, and kicks me hard enough to send me rolling across the smooth stone surface of the plateau. Eragon charges forward in a rage and resumes their prior duel. I cast spells with the little energy that I have left, making sure that my organs won't spill out of me. But blood coats my leather armor, which is now ruined by a gaping hole in the center and a slash across my front.

I lie on the ground, breathing hard and trying to keep myself from bleeding out. I use the energy in my swords to repair the veins and arteries, but most of the damage is too severe for me to heal without help. I bind the spells to my swords, so that even if I faint, they will keep the spells in place until they run out of energy. And with me falling into unconsciousness, it's a good thing I can still think clearly. At least until I hear Eragon yell the name Murtagh, and I hear the pain in his voice.

The world starts to fade, then becomes dark green and Sorin flies to me and covers me with his body, forming a protective shell around me. _Ciara, you must hold on. Take my energy and heal yourself. Just please don't die!_

I smile grimly. _Life, death, what does any of it matter when the world is in so much pain? I will not die so easily, but it will take great strength to repair this wound. And I no longer have the strength to stay conscious._ My eyelids flutter and my vision darkens, plunging me into a world of darkness and silence.


	6. Chapter 6

I awaken in pain and discomfort. And a sudden jolt causes me to try to sit up. "No. Stay down. You're safe now, but you need to stay still while we heal you." Eragon face comes into focus in the sunlit tent, as do the faces of the healers of Du Vrangr Gata.

"What happened?"

Eragon's face looks miserable. "After you passed out, the Rider and I dueled, and after a brief contest of strength, Sorin intervened and stomped around enough to make him leave. After that, Garzhvog did a favor for me and carried you here. Your spells were about to expire, so I called the healers here so that we could repair your wound. You nearly died."

I find that my armor has been taken off, leaving a bloodied tunic and mud smeared pants. "Ok, then I will guide your spells." I take a deep breath and start to sing, trying to ignore my cracked ribs. Eragon sings with me and the healers add their energy and voices. Obviously, most of the energy is coming from Sorin and Saphira, but with everyone working together, it takes only a few minutes to repair the organs, muscles, nerves and skin.

I sit up slowly and shake my head. "Well that was fun. I suppose this is the part where you chastise me in place of my grandfather."

Eragon shakes his head. "I have no right to do that." He waves the healers from the room and sits next to me with a serious expression on his face. "About that Rider…"

"Is he your brother?" I ask outright.

His face shows shock and surprise. "How did you know? I haven't told anyone yet."

I shake my head. "You minds feel similar, it's very hard to describe. And your noses, they have the same shape. And I think I heard some of your conversation. Selena, I think the name was. Is that your mother?"

Eragon nods. "It seems like even when on the verge of death, you are very observant of your surroundings. Yes, Selena is our mother, which means…"

"That Morzan is your father. You feel horrified and ashamed. And you don't want other people to know, therefore I should keep quiet about it and not judge you any differently because of it?" I circle my arms around his neck and breathe slowly. "Of course. You have your familial difficulties, and I have mine. Now we each know each other's dirty little family secrets." I smile brightly at him. "My lips are sealed."

"Thank you." Then he turns to face me with a serious expression. "And I'm sorry to do this, but I have to." He puts his arms around me. "Slytha." And in an instant, I slump into his arms, fast asleep.

By the time I wake up again, I feel as though I've slept for centuries. I get dressed and sneak out of my tent and pay a visit to the hugely packed infirmary. Sorin creeps into my mind and I feel his warmth. _Now that you're feeling better, you want to get to work?_

 _Yes. But where is Eragon?_

 _He and his cousin have gone off on a hunting trip, they want to kill the Ra'zac and rescue the cousin's young lady friend._

 _Alright, then shall we do something good for these people?_

Sorin agrees and I feel suffused with energy. The healers seem glad to see me as I dance through the rows of beds, singing my healing spells at the top of my lungs. My markings glow a bright silver-gold, like they always do when I am happily using powerful magic. The room grows warm and the air becomes softer. Even all of the injured warriors seem to be in better spirits. My grandfather has always said that my presence makes any room brighter.

I spend my days visiting the infirmary and doing healing sessions with the soldiers, though some of them aren't too pleased about me being a halfling. But I ignore them, since I always feel happy doing what I was born to do, heal. And some of the men enjoy my healing sessions so much that they come to the infirmary for every little injury, just to catch a glimpse of me.

When I'm not in the infirmary, I go to the practice field and train my swordsmanship with the dwarves and humans with the most experience. They cannot keep up with my speed, but more than that is the importance of learning techniques and strategies, when and where to apply certain movements. Essentially, they serve the purpose of improving my technical skills, which are the reason that I lost to Murtagh, a defeat that still stings my pride.

And on one such morning, as I spar with one of the weapons masters, I receive a stinging defeat. The older man looks at me with approval. "For less than two months of training, you are doing exceptionally well. Is what Eragon said the truth? That before coming to our aid, you had only a few days of practice in the arts of war?"

I nod, panting slightly. "My grandfather taught me many things about history, art, literature and such but never the arts of war. And I was always too reclusive to ask any of the other elves for help. Eragon taught me for a short time before arriving here, Orik also gave me some training, but I have never trained with a master swordsman."

"Then for a novice, you are quite talented. I suppose that being fast on your feet helps."

I grin with delight. "You forgot stronger than a horse. Though I know that I can't use my full strength here, since I could end up seriously injuring someone."

"Your restraint is duly noted." He looks at me curiously. "Will you show me how much strength you possess?"

I blink my eyes and process his request. "Are you sure? Your life could be in serious danger. I may not be all elf, but I also have the strength of a Rider."

He sets his sword on the ground and holds out his hands. So I roll my eyes and set my swords on the ground as well. We step towards each other and lock hands, putting our whole bodies into a contest of sheer strength. At first I'm shocked at how strong he is, especially for a human. But with the large bulky body that he has, I realize that a lot of it might simply be gravity.

I dig my heels into the ground and push hard against him, meeting some resistance. Since he wants to see my full strength, I will show him. I push harder and harder, increasing the intensity of my efforts until finally, his feet start sliding through the dirt. His eyes open in alarm, but I continue to push until he hits a rock and falls backward, nearly taking me down with him.

"Well done Rider, it seems that I underestimated you." He gets up out of the dirt and brushes himself off. "You may look like a little girl, but you have more than enough strength to best most opponents, male or female. Which means that your difficulties lie in experience."

I nod in agreement. "I was protected as a child. I always ran away from fights. Of course, the aggressors were always at least twenty years older than me, so it was never a fair fight."

"How old are you girl?"

I calculate the months that have passed since my last birthday. "I will be sixteen in a week. I'm less than a year younger than Eragon. I believe that the human equivalent in age would be a very small child, perhaps eight years old. So in that respect, I am what would normally be considered too young to fight. In fact, when my dragon hatched, I was half the age that would be normal for a presentation of dragon eggs, which is twenty."

His eyes widen and I can see his impression of me improving. "So you really are just a child. In that case, it is all the more impressive." He rubs his wrists. "You may go for today, but remember to practice those blocks. Even two swords can block as well as a shield."

I incline my head as a gesture of respect, pick up my swords and walk off the practice field. My joints and muscles feel sore. I may be as strong as an elf, but my body still has its limits. And pushing myself to find out where those limits are is not my idea of fun. But no matter, I am slowly remedying my most prominent combat problem.

I make time to visit Nasuada in her tent before continuing on to the infirmary for another healing session. The Nighthawks, her elite guards allow me inside and Nasuada smiles brightly as I approach her. "Oh good, someone who isn't coming to bring forward a complaint. You aren't bringing a complaint are you?"

I shake my head. "No. If I have a complaint, I'll deal with the issue myself. As it is, people either try to worship me, which I find a little odd, some simply respect me and leave me to my business, and a few do insult me outright."

Nasuada looks grim. "Your parentage?"

I nod. "At least humans actually voice their insults. Elves just mutter behind my back and give me condescending looks that make me want to tear them to pieces with every spell in my special collection of scrolls. As for the dwarves, they are fairly nice to me, especially since I am so close to Eragon and Orik, and being able to speak to them in their native tongue has helped with their opinion of me."

"Well, then I am glad that you are finding a place here." Nasuada's happiness is contagious, and soon I am smiling and sitting next to her, telling her all about my garden back in Ellesmera.

But trouble comes looking for Nasuada when a man named Fadawar comes to seek an audience with her, albeit an angry one. His décor is gaudy, with far too much gold, and his headpiece is ridiculous, over two feet tall and made of so much gold that it must be immensely heavy. Elva stays behind the curtain, the magical child that Eragon accidentally cursed when he was trying to bless her, with her clairvoyant ability to see the future and sense future pain and misery.

Nasuada sends the Nighthawks out, but allows me to stay, probably as a way to show to this contender that I support her as the leader of this army. And so begins an argument about ideology and loyalty. Fadawar claims that loyalty to family should be paramount, then to the tribe, the warlord, and then only to the kin and nation. Among the elves, it is loyalty to our people that we prize above all else, as well as social courtesy.

Fadawar demands that Nasuada favor his tribe for all the support they have given to the Varden. But Nasuada isn't going to let herself be pushed around. She very clearly tells him that if they want higher positions, then they have to be able to fill those roles better than anyone else. Any shared blood that they have means nothing to her, and that she will not show favoritism to any particular group.

And so the plot becomes clear as Fadawar challenges Nasuada to the Trial of the Long Knives. I had studied it with Oromis, but never seen it performed, so this is quite an interesting turn of events for me. Nasuada has her handmaid help her out of her dress, right in front of all of the men. I sit back in my chair and watch carefully as the men watch with shock and indignation.

As they start to voice complaints, I cut in. "Oh keep quiet, all of you. You are acting like little boys. Honestly, there was never such a reaction to women disrobing in Ellesmera, even when all they wore was a tattoo." My snide remark shuts all of them up and Nasuada looks at me gratefully, probably because I managed to embarrass the fools.

Fadawar becomes angry. "Why is it here with us? You should send her away, it is inappropriate to keep a companion of such suspicious origins."

"And if you voice that particular complaint again, you will regret it." I shoot him a look of cruel boredom. "And I don't even need my dragon for this. So if you refer to me as an object or creature again, I will take that absurdly large crown of yours and stick it somewhere useful."

"Please calm yourself, Ciara." Nasuada's voice is even and calm. "I'm sure that Lord Fadawar has gotten the gist of it. But please try to control your temper, I don't want any extra blood spilled inside the tent."

I nod in agreement as Fadawar removes his gold jewelry in preparation for the trial. And suddenly, Orrin, Jormundar, Trianna and two tribesmen arrive. Orrin, Jormundar and Trianna immediately begin protesting, for various reasons, while the tribesmen just mutter.

Nasuada announces the Trial of the Long Knives and that if she loses, Fadawar will be the new leader of the Varden. Fadawar's warriors start pounding on small goat-hide drums. And the onlookers agree to bear witness to this contest.

And so the contest began, with Nasuada and Fadawar each cutting into their arms. Six cuts on the first arm, then, switching arms and continuing to cut. And despite Orrin's efforts to intervene, Nasuada determinedly continues with the contest. As they arrive at the tenth cut, Nasuada adds an extra cut to her arm, challenging Fadawar to best her. And just like that, Fadawar presses his arms to his belly and concedes defeat, giving Nasuada unchallenged control of the Varden.

Fadawar and his men leave the tent, and Nasuada has her maid bandage her arms, for if magic is used to heal them, she will forfeit the contest. So I hand Farica some herbs that can be brewed into an antiseptic and used to disinfect wounds. With that, I leave the tent and continue with my daily routines.


	7. Chapter 7

Seeing Saphira fly into the camp a few days later with Roran and a woman on her back is strange, especially with Eragon absent. My worries begin to float around my mind, but Saphira's calmness brushes against my mind, and if she is calm, then Eragon should be in no danger.

I run to her, dodging between people until I end up directly below her snout. _How did the mission go Saphira?_

 _Well enough. Roran and Katrina are alive. Though I worry for Katrina, she has been in captivity for so long that her health may be in danger. Can you have Nasuada clear the field? I do not want to reveal that Eragon is gone._

I nod and silently agree to check on Katrina. I direct the request to Nasuada and Saphira lies on the ground and makes it easier for Roran and his lady to dismount. She is slight, with coppery hair and a strong frame. Her face is pale, so I run around Saphira to see her and Roran.

Roran looks at me carefully. "Did Saphira ask you to look at her?"

I nod. "Did she tell you?"

"No." Roran looks grim. "Only, if she hadn't, I would have asked it of you myself."

I smile and take Katrina's hand. "Then would the two of you please come to my tent? I have a medical bag there, as well as a greater store of energy to work with, just in case I find something worrying."

Roran nods, but before I can take them to my tent, Nasuada and Orrin arrive and introductions ensue, though many stares are directed at Katrina. Saphira quickly and briefly gives me the whole story, including the parts that Eragon would prefer others not to know, but trusts that I will keep the secret. And once that is done, I usher Roran and Katrina into my tent.

I sit Katrina in a chair, which is safer than a bed, in case of certain injuries of the spine or brain that could result in worse damage if she were to lie down. I sing incantations, finding every single cause of her pain and discomfort, and what I find is quite interesting. Roran grips the chair with a worried expression. "So? Have you found anything yet?"

"Apart from the obvious cuts, bruises and malnutrition, not much." Then I clasp my hand _s_ and frown. "I'm not going to pretend to understand human customs. But I'm sure that this is going to be a shock and surprise to you Roran." I look him straight in the eye. "She is carrying a child, it is about three months along." Then I smile. "Fortunately, if I act in healing her now, there will be no permanent damage to the child."

Katrina bursts into tears, which rather confuses me, especially since I feel a whole confused tangle of emotions from her. But Roran nods. "Please do. And thank you for telling us."

I take Katrina's hands and start to sing, healing all of her cuts and bruises, filling her body with energy and bringing some color back into her face. With her increasing energy she allows me to pull her into a dance, which heightens emotions and gives me more energy to use. Her injuries heal before Roran's eyes and her expression lightens considerably. I also reach into their minds and find Katina's original hair color, a brighter shade of copper, and I use magic to restore that color to her hair.

When we stop dancing, Katrina sits down heavily. "I never knew that magic felt so nice."

I start to laugh and smile. "That is because that was healing magic, which is my specialty. I usually have a bright presence, which is why people become more comfortable around me, if they just try to get over the fact that I am half elf. The dancing is how I give myself more energy, by making my magic draw power from my heightened emotions."

"Is she alright now?" Roran still looks concerned. "Is the child going to be alright?"

"Yes, yes." I roll my eyes and sigh. "I did say that healing magic is my specialty. She is going to be just fine. All you have to do is make sure that she rests and eats properly. Do that, and her strength should return quickly." Then I feel the need to address an issue. "I've studied human culture and I believe that I've found a problem."

Roran nods. "Katrina is pregnant and we are not yet married."

"I'm not going to pretend to understand whatever emotional implications there are." And when Roran frowns in confusion, I feel compelled to explain. "I've been in Du Weldenvarden my whole life. I was raised by my elven grandfather, as he is the only family I have left. Thus, I am more familiar with elven traditions. And marriage is not one of them."

Katrina looks a little shocked. "Elves don't marry? But then what about children?"

I smile a bit sadly. "There are sometimes children, but because of our infinitely long lives, they seem a bit few and far between. When a couple has a child, it is considered the ultimate way of expressing their love to each other. But no, elves do not marry. We take mates for however long we choose, but as we do not die of old age, a promise for forever is inadvisable. An onerous obligation, if you will."

Voices sound outside and Roran seems to recognize them. "Katrina, I must go, Horst is becoming loud." He kisses her and shoots me a glance before walking out of the tent.

"So Katrina, is there anything that I should know before the backlash of emotions and memories hits me?" I look at her carefully, trying not to upset her too much. "A side effect of the amount of healing that I do, as well as my sensitive emotions, I often get some negative backlash. I absorb some of the painful memories of the people that I heal. And in most cases they are quite happy to be free of some of that pain."

Her expression tells me that she has a sinking feeling. "I was imprisoned by those Ra'zac all this time." Then her eyes fill with tears. "I was alone for so long that when Roran and Eragon arrived, I thought that they were hallucinations, or the Ra'zac coming back to hurt me."

I wrap my arms around Katrina and dry her tears. "It's alright now, you won't have to see those evil creatures ever again. There are people here who care about you, and some very powerful people willing to fight for you."

Suddenly, the backlash hits me and I drop to my knees. Katrina crouches and touches my shoulder. "Are you going to be alright?" I suddenly feel Sorin pushing against my mind, but I keep him out to spare him from feeling the waves of pain and sadness.

"I'll be fine, this isn't as bad as when I healed Eragon." I breathe in and out, using meditation techniques to steady myself. "And I've absorbed plenty of pain from the warriors here. One more mind isn't going to do any significant damage."

After a while, Katrina leaves my tent and heads towards where her people have set up their tents. I sit against my bed and run through the traumatic memories that leeched from Katrina to me. Between the memories from the people I've healed and the memories of the battle, my mind is a bit of a mess. And worst of all is the memory of being stabbed. I can still feel the cold steel of the blade sliding through me, and I find myself checking the skin, expecting to see it open and bleeding.

 _The more you fret over it, the worse the fretting will get._ Sorin pushes his head into the tent, filling up about half of it with a green, scaly head with foot and a half long horns. He looks at me with his big, sparkling eyes, like he wants me give me a hug. _Why don't we go fly around a bit. The open sky is just waiting for something to fly around in it._

 _Alright._ I touch his nose and he pulls his head out of the tent. I change out of my dress and into my casual riding clothes before climbing onto Sorin's back. He has a small notch between two of his spikes that makes for a good place to sit, even without a saddle. He has a broader back than Saphira, which makes for a more comfortable ride when there isn't a saddle. _Let's go._

 _Hold on tight._ He walks right through the camp and to the cleared area that he and Saphira use for taking off and landing. He lowers his nose down to Jormundar, who is looking at us quizzically, but then seems to sigh and nod in resignation. Then Sorin shifts his weight to the back and takes off into the air.

As the wind whips around us, I feel my worries ebb away. But with only having done magic today, I feel restless and full of anxiety. With Eragon gone, I have no one to properly spar with. Because in my battles, I need to be able to use physical and mental assaults simultaneously. And also because Eragon is both technically proficient and gifted with the same speed and strength as me, therefore he can give me more relevant advice.

 _Why don't you go and hit someone with a sword, or better yet, why don't you learn to fight with something new? Perhaps that will distract you enough to get your mind off of these unsettling events. The only way to move on is to move forward._

 _Alright fine. I will go and learn something new, but what should it be? I can already use dual swords, I can shoot very well, I don't like the idea of a huge two handed sword or a shield weighing me down._

 _Then how about you learn to fight barehanded?_

With that idea in mind, Sorin flies over the practice field and rolls in mid-air, allowing me to slip off his back and land on the ground. I see Roran lifting boulders for strength training, and I see one of the weapons trainers sparring with two young men about the same ages as Roran and Eragon.

After giving them each a hard whap with a wooden sword that sends them sprawling, the older man shoves his wooden practice sword into the dirt and watches me approach. "Shouldn't you be over with Thorvac?"

"No, he has given me more than enough help with my sword-work, I should let him get back to the others." I step carefully around the two on the ground and look at the rack of weapons. "I already excel with a bow, and for now, I can only wait for Eragon to return and spar with me to improve my sword-work."

He nods toward the rack. "Then what is it that you're looking for?"

I shrug. "Another skill. I can carry around knives, but like with my archery, I already have good aim. I need to learn a skill from scratch, to keep myself busy and to ward off things I would rather not think about."

Lang nods curtly. "And do you have a skill in mind?"

"Perhaps an unarmed skill. There could be situations where I find myself unable to reach for a weapon, and it would be good to learn to fight without having to rely on magic." I smile grimly. "Using magic is far more taxing than most people believe. Galbatorix also has some drugs that make reaching for magic very difficult, and sometimes even impossible. If an enemy agent were to slip it into my food or drink without my notice, or if it were somehow undetectable, there would prove to be some problems."

Lang frowns in slight confusion, and the two behind me groan with discomfort. Lang looks at them piteously. "Alright, you two go take a break. It seems that the lady would like to learn to fight in a less refined manner."

"So are you able to teach me?" I turn to look at him, keeping my gaze fixed on his movements.

He inclines his head slightly and purses his lips. "I can, but it is a skill that takes keen observation skills and good instincts to use effectively. And like swords, fighting unarmed requires a much faster reaction time."

"In that case, this will be good for me to learn. Even for an elf, I am exceptionally fast, as well as flexible" Then I remember my extensive training with Oromis. "And learning how to observe everything is one of the requirements in a Rider's training. Unfortunately, I'd had minimal combat training before arriving here."

"Minimal combat training?" Lang drops his coat to the ground, leaving him in a sleeveless shirt that reveals his arms. "In that case, remove some of those heavy clothes and let me see how you move."

I nod and strip down to the tight, sleeveless tunic, leggings and boots that make up the outfit that I wear for the Rimgar. "Is there anything in particular you would like to see me do?"

"How far can you bend?" His question catches me off guard a little, but I can't blame him for asking. He looks at me expectantly. "Well? Show me how far you can bend, forwards and backwards, to the sides. How far can you contort your body? That will tell me how much you can learn."

"Very well." I stretch a little to let my body warm up before showing him the extent of my abilities. "I realize that most people might find this rather disturbing. But the fact remains that my flexibility is one of my more interesting natural talents."

I stretch my arms to the sky, then bend backwards, so far that my arms reach through my legs. I lift my legs into the air and bring them down to my hands, but keep them just slightly off the ground. Then I allow them to slide between my arms, putting me into a hunched forward position. I slip my legs back out, then straighten my back a little and bend my legs around to the left, then to the right. I lift my legs back to the sky, straightening myself between the ground and sky. Then I bend them down to the ground, letting them touch my back, and I bend back up to my original position.

Lang stares at me with disbelief. Though it doesn't surprise me that he hasn't seen anyone quite that strong and flexible before, it still feels uncomfortable to have everyone on the practice field staring at me as well.

"It seems that you have an easily contorted body." Lang touches my arms, then my legs. "And a fair bit of muscle for a woman. I thought you said that you had very little training."

"Well in combat." I start doing poses from the Rimgar. "This is called the Dance of the Snake and Crane, or the Rimgar. It is how most elves stay in shape when not practicing the sword, spear, bow, or other such crafts. I spent every day for about three years doing the Rimgar, until I had mastered every pose. I ride Sorin often and we do some very complex aerial maneuvers that require a lot of strength, more than I had to begin with."

Lang nods and we spend an hour with him teaching me various ways to strike a person with my hands, feet, elbows and knees. And with a promise to train with him every day, I leave him to continue training others. And the timing is perfect because a message reaches me that the twelve elven spell-casters have arrived.

I make my way to where Nasuada and the elves are meeting, and the one who greets me is Blodhgarm, who steps forward and twists his hand in a gesture of respect. "Atra esterni ono thelduin, Lady Ciara."

I touch my fingers to my lips. "Atra du evarinya ono varda."

And with a last flourish of his hand, he bows deeply. "Un atra mor'ranr lifa unin hjarta onr. It is good to see that you are well. Your grandfather has been worried about you."

"I see." I feel stiff as Blodhgarm regards me. "As you can see, I am healed of the injuries I sustained during the battle. I may be young and inexperienced, but I am far more tenacious than most give me credit for."

He nods. "It is as you say, you have been exceeding the expectations of many."

"I'm sure." I try to keep my face blank, but my markings turn a dark red with hard and defiant anger. "And I'm also sure that you will be making a full report of me to the lords and ladies. They no doubt want to know if I am likely to survive this war."

Blodhgarm's ability to control all of his expressions is quite impressive, he nods curtly. "I will be sending regular reports to Queen Islanzadi and Lord Dathedr."

I stifle a bitter laugh. "Then you may tell the lords and ladies that they need not worry. Once this war ends, I will either be dead and the Riders destroyed forever, or I will return to Ellesmera one last time to collect what remains of my possessions and leave the forest forever."

He bows. "As you wish Lady Ciara."

I turn to Nasuada, who seems rather alarmed by the exchange, though she likely has no idea what was said. "You needn't worry, they are not your enemies." Then I speak directly into her mind. _But if you were hoping for pleasantries between us, then I am sorry to disappoint you. There are many who consider my existence an abomination of nature, despite how they proclaim to love children. If you were to ask me to enter their minds and tell you if they are trustworthy or not, I would refuse. I do not want to know all the things they think about me._

I stride off to my tent and look into a mirror, examining the intricate patterns on my face. Since everyone else can see the color changes, I decide to use magic to expand the designs, sending the magical pigment in intricate spirals and twists under my hair in a crown-like pattern. From there, they twirl to my neck and down my back and arms, creating a symmetrical network of patterns and designs from my head down my back and chest, over my hips, and all the way around my arms and legs until they end on the tops of my feet and the backs of my hands. But when they extend to my hands, they take on the silver color of my gedwey ignasia, though continue to change with my shifting emotions.


	8. Chapter 8

When Eragon finally returns to the camp, I find myself nearly bored out of my mind. Even with training and healing to occupy my time, there is very little to do. Although, with a small and special project I've been working on, I have been doing a little research into protective spells, all for the sake of Katrina, since she will likely not want to leave Roran's side for the foreseeable future.

While Eragon gets trapped by Nasuada and Orrin, doing many things including a speech and meeting many nobles and important people. I try to avoid them as much as possible, and helpfully, they focus all of their attention on Eragon

Despite the invitation to attend a party for Eragon, I decline and decide to spend my evening alone. With the gift for Katrina finished, I read scrolls until I eventually fall asleep. But to my dismay, my dreams are not peaceful.

From where I stand, I can see a man, shrouded in shadow and garbed in back and maroon clothing. He carries a girl in his arms, with long brown hair and covered in burns, cuts, bruises and with skin the color of old sheets. She seems unconscious, or perhaps barely conscious, for she doesn't move. The hallway has many doors, all barred, and has the look of what I imagine a prison to look like. The man says something indistinct and presses his forehead against that of the girl he carries. And with that, the vision fades.

I wake in a cold sweat, disturbed by the vivid quality of the vision. I am sure that it is a premonition, for I have never had a dream even remotely similar to it. And I have never seen the place before, though the man and the girl seem familiar. But what happened or will happen to her remains a mystery, as well as why it seems that she was to be carried through a prison, and why she was tortured so thoroughly.

 _Ciara, are you all right? You've been asleep since yesterday night._ Sorin's voice is a little panicked. _I tried to wake you, but you were as sound asleep as if you were dead. I could hear your heart beat and your lungs breathing, but you simply wouldn't wake up. I even tried roaring at you._

I shake my head to clear it. _I'm fine. But I think that I saw into someone's future._

 _Did they live?_

 _I don't know._ I get up and change into a dark green dress with long fluttering sleeves and slits in front of my legs from the knees down. The dress flutters as I walk, and I feel much more grown up now that I can fit into my mother's dress.

 _Ciara, it is Eragon. Roran and Katrina are going to have their wedding in a few hours. Would you be there at the ceremony with me? I fear that I'll be nervous without someone to ground me._ Eragon does sound nervous, which is rather odd, but then again, I do not understand the intricacies of the human rituals known as weddings.

 _Alright, I have something to give to Katrina anyway. It is customary to give gifts to the bride and groom is it not?_

His mental voice has a laughing quality to it. _Yes, I suppose so. I have something for the both of them as well. A pair of gold rings with enchantments on them._

It amuses me to think that Eragon and I have such a similar thought process. _I have something similar for Katrina. It is a necklace with many protective enchantments, and the energy to fuel them for quite some time. And I will tell her the history behind it when I present it to her._

 _Thank you so much for what you've done for the Varden._ Eragon's gratefulness confuses me, and he must sense that. _What I mean to say is that you've been such a great help since you arrived. The men recover faster, and everything seems brighter. I should have thanked you earlier, but with everything that has happened, I never really had a chance to say it properly._

I feel a little overwhelmed by his praise, because I have never been the subject of such praise before. _You are very welcome, Eragon. I am pleased to be of assistance here._

Eragon suddenly cuts our connection, and I realize why. I quickly change out of my dress and into my riding clothes, since my armor cannot be repaired, and I haven't gotten new armor forged. "Sorin! It's time to go!" I yell out of my tent, but Sorin isn't there.

I run out of my tent and see Murtagh and his red dragon, Thorn, approaching. Then I see Sorin crouching at the far end of the camp, closest to them. His fangs are bared and his claws tear into the dirt. His growling rumbles through the camp, shaking the ground and making the air vibrate like the loudest drum ever made.

Soldiers march towards the camp, unafraid of a very angry dragon. His saddle is on his back, which means that he had taken the trouble to ask someone to put it on him, probably Arya or one of the other elves, and even my swords are strapped into the saddle-sheaths. I race up his back, using his spikes to keep my balance on his slippery scales, and seat myself in the saddle, strapping myself in.

Sorin unleashes a torrent of fire at the soldiers, so hot that I feel it through my wards. And with Eragon and Saphira fighting Murtagh and Thorn in the sky, I hear roars, then a roar of pain as Thorn falls from the sky. Though the fire seems to fail against these soldiers, and they get up again after being cut down, I realize that they feel no pain.

And so, Sorin and I plunge into the fray. I take my bow and start shooting arrows into the heads of the enemy, summoning the arrows back as I start to run out. Sorin swipes at the soldiers, raking them with his claws and shredding them as if they were but pieces of paper faced with a flurry of swords. I hear roaring in the distance, shouting and Arya calling for my help, but I am so focused on shooting, that I can't seem to hear anything else, until I finally see Murtagh and Thorn flying away.

When there is finally only a single foe left, I look at my hands and see that they are covered in blood. The blood comes from the heads of the men that I shot. The man just laughs as the Varden look on in disgust and horror.

With the battle over, Eragon tells me that the wedding will still take place today, as a way to lift everyone's spirits. So Sorin flies me to the river and I dismount in order to wash my hands in the river. The blood flows away and I look at my reflection in the water. I look older now, not in physical appearance, but in my expression.

 _It looks like things will never be the same again. I'm not that protected little girl in the forest anymore._ I touch my face and notice that my designs have turned grey. _Will I ever have the chance to rid myself of all the pain in my heart?_

 _Of course you will._ Sorin nuzzles me gently. _But first, this war has to be won. Because if we fail, then peace will never be possible. Running away from it will only hasten defeat. And running and hiding will only work for so long._

 _I know. That is why I decided to come here._ I get to my feet and shake the water from my clothes. _Time to return to the camp and get ready for the wedding._

I climb into the saddle again and find my inner peace as Sorin and I fly though the clear blue sky. With such a terrible future in store, I find myself wondering about the vision. And my greatest fear is that the girl I though seemed familiar is more familiar than I first thought.

I arrive back at my tent and change back into my dress. I brush my hair and braid it up, tying it with a leather tie and letting the masses of curls fall to my waist. I leave my tent and walk quickly to the nearby hill where the ceremony will be held, keeping hold of the gifts I intend to present to Roran and Katrina in congratulations.

I find Eragon and take a seat on the curving root of a tree, observing the proceedings. The villagers of Carvahall begin to sing. And when Roran and Katrina appear, walking towards Eragon, I'm most impressed by the twenty foot train of lace behind her. A pair of doves fly forward and place a crown of daffodils on Katrina's head, no doubt a gesture made by Arya.

When Roran and Katrina reach Eragon, who was pleaded with by Roran to preside over the wedding, they both look so happy. As the villagers conclude their singing, Eragon speaks of their impending union and asks if there are any objections, then has Horst, the blacksmith, and Birgit, a friend of Katrina's mother, to negotiate on their behalf.

On Roran's behalf, Horst promises, among other, more personally valuable things, that Roran will give her a home in Carvahall, being a declaration that returning home for them will be done. And Birgit promises, on behalf of Katrina, the duties of a loving wife, and a dowry, which surprises the crowd. The men that come forward with the metal casket open it to reveal a mound of precious jewelry. And after each piece of jewelry is described, the couple take their vows and Eragon ties a ribbon around their wrists, sealing them in marriage. Saphira and Sorin touch each of them on the brow, then Sorin roars triumphantly into the air.

Roran yells for the celebrations to begin, but Eragon interrupts him. "Before we start the celebrations, Ciara has something that she wishes to present to you." He looks at me and grins. "She was quite insistent on presenting it to you in front of everyone."

Roran's eyes widen, then he inclines his head. "As you wish."

I rise to my feet and glide over to them. I raise my voice for the whole crowd to hear. "Will someone bring forward his hammer?"

Confused voices ring out, but Horst has one of his sons bring forward the hammer. He hands it to me and I take a gem from my hair. "My gift to you Roran." I start to sing, twisting the wood of the handle so that it provides a setting for the gem, which I then place into the setting and coax the wood to twist around it, making a firm setting. "The energy in the gem is attached to some spells. They will make sure that the hammer does not break, nor warp, and that you become gifted with luck at unexpected moments." Roran bows deeply to me, gratitude showing on his face.

I turn to Katrina. "And for you, this." I take out the necklace and hang it around her neck. "It has spells of protection, and the energy to provide them for quite a long time. The necklace was left to me by my mother, and to her by her mother, and to her by her own mother. This necklace, with its seven diamonds, was commissioned by my great grandmother, thus worn by two queens and two princesses." I smile gently at her. "It is a piece that has seen many bitter years of war, but perhaps you can allow it to see an era of peace. And know that your marriage is blessed by House Thrandurin, as well as the last of the royal family of the Broddring Kingdom."

Katrina's eyes fill with tears and she wraps her arms around me, sobbing almost hysterically. The crowd starts cheering and the two of them are quickly dragged away by the party guests. Nasuada pulls me aside, her eyes sparkling. "That was very kind of you."

I smile. "I'm naturally very kind. The warrior that you have seen in battle is a new part of me. Back in the forest, all I ever really did was study ancient scrolls and tend to my garden of flowers and medicinal herbs."

Nasuada touches my arm, a sad expression crosses her face. "But you gave her a keepsake of your mother's, that can't have been easy."

I tap the necklace on my own neck, it has a dozen larger diamonds and twenty or so smaller ones, all perfectly clear and shining. "This, my sword and my dress are all the keepsakes I need. This necklace is the one that she carried with her every single time that she went into battle, she stored nearly a century of magical energy in this necklace, then left it behind for me when my parents went off to their final battle, I was days old. All I got from them after they died was the swords that they magically transported back to the forest, though it is probably the act that killed my father."

Nasuada nods. "I can sympathize. I never knew my mother, and my father was killed just after the Battle of Farthen Dur." She looks pained. "I know that it cannot compare with losing your parents just days after you were born, and at the hands of Galbatorix himself. But at least you have Sorin, who I imagine is quite a loving companion, if the relationship between Eragon and Saphira is anything to judge by."

"Yes, he is." Sorin comes to nuzzle me again. "He is my soul's partner, the other half of my heart. If ever I lose him, I will be worse than dead." Nasuada nods and sweeps herself away to join the festivities for a little while. "Do you promise to always be with me Sorin?"

 _Of course. I could never leave you. If we go into battle, we go together. And if we head into the jaws of death, we will go bravely._ He picks me up with one of his claws and sets me on his shoulder. He walks over to the infirmary, where I sense the life forces of dying men.

I walk into the infirmary and start my usual dance. The men are so happy to see me that even the terribly injured ones try to sit up to watch me. I sing and dance, letting waves of healing magic flow over them, Sorin helps to supply the energy required for this effort. And for the ones who are beyond even my ability to heal, I take away their pain and allow them to live out what remains of their lives in peace.

One of the men says that he sees me, despite being blind. He says that he sees a form full of blinding light. He says that he sees stars twinkling on my neck, one on the palm of my left hand, and flames licking the tips of my fingers. He must be gifted with the ability to see magic, so I crouch before him. "You must have a great gift if you can look at a sun and not feel the pain." I touch his shoulder lightly and continue dancing a while longer. When I finally run out of energy in my body, I say my goodbyes and return to my tent for the night.


	9. Chapter 9

And so, when the morning comes and the clanmeet convenes, I wait outside the main hall until eventually, the doors open and Eragon's translator appears. "They have requested your presence Lady Ciara."

I nod. "Very well." I get to my feet and comport myself proudly, striding into the hall with my head held high. "You wish to hear the truth from me?"

The clan chiefs nod, and five old dwarves look at me curiously. Two younger dwarves, magicians, by the look of them, approach me slowly. "We would like permission to enter your mind."

I nod. "Be careful not to stray too far. I may only be half elf, but my mind is as dangerous a place to wander in as any of theirs." I breathe in and out deeply. "To make your job easier, I will bring all of my memories pertaining to the event to the front of my mind." I do so, then lower the first layer of barriers in my mind so that the two dwarves may enter.

The dwarves shuffle around for over a minute, playing and replaying the scene of the attack. But they do not stray any further, so my memories of Oromis and Glaedr are in no danger. They withdraw from my mind and turn to the old dwarves. "Her account matches. Though the way that she analyzed the situation is remarkable. She was quite aware of many interesting details, though she has likely overlooked some of them due to her limited exposure to our race."

"Which details?" One of the old dwarfs asks. The magician and old ones share a brief moment of contact, then they all nod. "Indeed, that is interesting, and it supports all of the evidence." The one in the middle nods to me. "Thank you, your Ladyship. You have been most helpful in this investigation."

I incline my head respectfully and turn away, walking out the door and leaving Orik with a last nudge in his mind for good luck. The doors close behind me and I feel confident that Vermund will not be able to talk his way out of this situation. And I don't have to wait long, for only minutes later does Vermund storm out of the hall, followed by a few dwarves of his clan, all clothed in purple, and give me one last hateful look before leaving in shame. It satisfies me to see them leave, for I know what has transpired. They have been banished in the fashion of the dwarves, completely and utterly ignored.

With the coronation to happen in three days, Eragon and I rush to our quarters to send a message to Saphira and Sorin, telling them to make haste and fly to Tronjheim. With their presence, the crowning of the new dwarven monarch will indeed be an event to remember.

As the last three days of deliberation go on, Orik seems very confident in his position. And when I feel the touch of Eragon's mind, crowing with satisfaction, I know that Orik has won, and that he will follow in Hrothgar's footsteps as the king of the dwarves.

The dwarves exit the room, and I congratulate Orik on his victory. "Well done Your Majesty. I suppose that you will have access to as much mead as you desire." I laugh and smile. "Because in a little while, you will need enough for two dragons." I glance at Eragon. "Let's go!"

Eragon smiles and we take off at a run, sprinting through the city and into the tunnels that lead outside. We run through the tunnels until we feel them. Sorin and Saphira come galloping, well whatever it is that dragons do at high speeds that isn't flying, towards us.

 _Ciara!_

I revel in the touch of Sorin's mind. _Oh Sorin, it has been so long. Was all well with the Varden?_

 _Yes, all was well. But when Saphira and I got the summons, we hurried here as fast as our wings would take us. We haven't slept or eaten, but it was worth it to be here so quickly._ He comes to a stop, nearly knocking me over, and breathes his hot breath on me. He nuzzles me and I climb onto his snout. "That way." I point to the other end of the tunnel. "I think Orik will have some mead set out soon, especially seeing as it is time to celebrate his impending coronation."

 _He won, I see. Then that means that the dwarves will continue to help with the fight against Galbatorix._

I nod and hold on to the small horns that project from above his eyes. _Yes, it means that we will once again have the dwarves as allies. And this means that our fight against that traitor will be easier and shorter, for with the elves in the north and the dwarves and Varden coming from the south, he will have nowhere to run, except to the sky. And that is where we can catch him. His dragon is probably huge, which means that you and Saphira are far more maneuverable. And I will take every advantage that we can get._

 _Here, here, we will show that traitor that he can only get away with his crimes for so long._ And with that cheery thought, we arrive back in the city. And with Eragon and Saphira joining their thoughts with ours, a cacophony of chatter fills our minds as we discuss what we think we will see at a once in a lifetime event, the coronation of a dwarven king. Saphira briefly suffers an attack of hiccups before I use a spell to cure her. Though I do wait until Eragon and I have gotten enough laughter out of our systems.

With drums sounding, hundreds of dwarves crowd the halls of Tronjheim. Sorin and Saphira have a feast of sheep, though the wool does not settle easily in their stomachs. And with Eragon and I mounted on our dragons, the four of us take our place in the huge circle of important figures attending the coronation. And the ceremony takes place next to the huge red sapphire, which has been meticulously assembled at an absurd pace.

When Orik enters in his gleaming armor, he looks very impressive. But what delights me the most is the pink rose petals that fall from the ceiling. And when the priest, Gannel, calls for Guntera to crown Orik, I see and feel something inexplicable. A presence appears and puts a golden helm on Orik's head.

But as the presence vanishes, I cannot fathom what I have just seen. An apparition, feat of magic, or perhaps one of these elusive gods that the dwarves believe in. But whatever the case, the ceremony ends with Saphira and Sorin breathing huge jets of fire into the air, incinerating thousands of petals. The clan chiefs publicly pledge their allegiance to their new king, and so the celebrating begins.

When presenting the gifts to the king, Eragon and I go last. And when I come before Orik, I smile and give a slight curtsy. "Well met Your Majesty. I have a gift for you that I hope you will find useful." I stare at his armor and begin incanting spells, speaking for over a minute in my language. Then I close my eyes and open them to look into his eyes. "It is done. That armor will shield you from the effects of magic, which you may find useful if you ever choose to visit my people again. It also has life sustaining properties now, and an enhancement to its overall strength."

Orik chuckles loudly. "I will remember that if ever I see another elven saturnalia again. Thank you Your Highness."

Saphira projects her thoughts to everyone as she presents her gift, and she refuses even help from Eragon. As the dwarven choir sings, Saphira sways to the music and I feel a huge amount of energy suffuse her body. She touches her nose to the formerly shattered gemstone and light flashes though it. When the light dies down, the gem is whole again, but a richer shade of red, with streaks of gold in the innermost petals.

And with the gem restored, the day ends with celebrations almost equal to those of the elves, though with less magic and more drinking songs. Saphira and Sorin manage to empty barrel after barrel of ale, and it is a good thing that Sorin cannot fit into their drinking halls, otherwise everyone inside would have been cooked by the intensity of his flames.


	10. Chapter 10

And so, when the morning comes and the clanmeet convenes, I wait outside the main hall until eventually, the doors open and Eragon's translator appears. "They have requested your presence Lady Ciara."

I nod. "Very well." I get to my feet and comport myself proudly, striding into the hall with my head held high. "You wish to hear the truth from me?"

The clan chiefs nod, and five old dwarves look at me curiously. Two younger dwarves, magicians, by the look of them, approach me slowly. "We would like permission to enter your mind."

I nod. "Be careful not to stray too far. I may only be half elf, but my mind is as dangerous a place to wander in as any of theirs." I breathe in and out deeply. "To make your job easier, I will bring all of my memories pertaining to the event to the front of my mind." I do so, then lower the first layer of barriers in my mind so that the two dwarves may enter.

The dwarves shuffle around for over a minute, playing and replaying the scene of the attack. But they do not stray any further, so my memories of Oromis and Glaedr are in no danger. They withdraw from my mind and turn to the old dwarves. "Her account matches. Though the way that she analyzed the situation is remarkable. She was quite aware of many interesting details, though she has likely overlooked some of them due to her limited exposure to our race."

"Which details?" One of the old dwarfs asks. The magician and old ones share a brief moment of contact, then they all nod. "Indeed, that is interesting, and it supports all of the evidence." The one in the middle nods to me. "Thank you, your Ladyship. You have been most helpful in this investigation."

I incline my head respectfully and turn away, walking out the door and leaving Orik with a last nudge in his mind for good luck. The doors close behind me and I feel confident that Vermund will not be able to talk his way out of this situation. And I don't have to wait long, for only minutes later does Vermund storm out of the hall, followed by a few dwarves of his clan, all clothed in purple, and give me one last hateful look before leaving in shame. It satisfies me to see them leave, for I know what has transpired. They have been banished in the fashion of the dwarves, completely and utterly ignored.

With the coronation to happen in three days, Eragon and I rush to our quarters to send a message to Saphira and Sorin, telling them to make haste and fly to Tronjheim. With their presence, the crowning of the new dwarven monarch will indeed be an event to remember.

As the last three days of deliberation go on, Orik seems very confident in his position. And when I feel the touch of Eragon's mind, crowing with satisfaction, I know that Orik has won, and that he will follow in Hrothgar's footsteps as the king of the dwarves.

The dwarves exit the room, and I congratulate Orik on his victory. "Well done Your Majesty. I suppose that you will have access to as much mead as you desire." I laugh and smile. "Because in a little while, you will need enough for two dragons." I glance at Eragon. "Let's go!"

Eragon smiles and we take off at a run, sprinting through the city and into the tunnels that lead outside. We run through the tunnels until we feel them. Sorin and Saphira come galloping, well whatever it is that dragons do at high speeds that isn't flying, towards us.

 _Ciara!_

I revel in the touch of Sorin's mind. _Oh Sorin, it has been so long. Was all well with the Varden?_

 _Yes, all was well. But when Saphira and I got the summons, we hurried here as fast as our wings would take us. We haven't slept or eaten, but it was worth it to be here so quickly._ He comes to a stop, nearly knocking me over, and breathes his hot breath on me. He nuzzles me and I climb onto his snout. "That way." I point to the other end of the tunnel. "I think Orik will have some mead set out soon, especially seeing as it is time to celebrate his impending coronation."

 _He won, I see. Then that means that the dwarves will continue to help with the fight against Galbatorix._

I nod and hold on to the small horns that project from above his eyes. _Yes, it means that we will once again have the dwarves as allies. And this means that our fight against that traitor will be easier and shorter, for with the elves in the north and the dwarves and Varden coming from the south, he will have nowhere to run, except to the sky. And that is where we can catch him. His dragon is probably huge, which means that you and Saphira are far more maneuverable. And I will take every advantage that we can get._

 _Here, here, we will show that traitor that he can only get away with his crimes for so long._ And with that cheery thought, we arrive back in the city. And with Eragon and Saphira joining their thoughts with ours, a cacophony of chatter fills our minds as we discuss what we think we will see at a once in a lifetime event, the coronation of a dwarven king. Saphira briefly suffers an attack of hiccups before I use a spell to cure her. Though I do wait until Eragon and I have gotten enough laughter out of our systems.

With drums sounding, hundreds of dwarves crowd the halls of Tronjheim. Sorin and Saphira have a feast of sheep, though the wool does not settle easily in their stomachs. And with Eragon and I mounted on our dragons, the four of us take our place in the huge circle of important figures attending the coronation. And the ceremony takes place next to the huge red sapphire, which has been meticulously assembled at an absurd pace.

When Orik enters in his gleaming armor, he looks very impressive. But what delights me the most is the pink rose petals that fall from the ceiling. And when the priest, Gannel, calls for Guntera to crown Orik, I see and feel something inexplicable. A presence appears and puts a golden helm on Orik's head.

But as the presence vanishes, I cannot fathom what I have just seen. An apparition, feat of magic, or perhaps one of these elusive gods that the dwarves believe in. But whatever the case, the ceremony ends with Saphira and Sorin breathing huge jets of fire into the air, incinerating thousands of petals. The clan chiefs publicly pledge their allegiance to their new king, and so the celebrating begins.

When presenting the gifts to the king, Eragon and I go last. And when I come before Orik, I smile and give a slight curtsy. "Well met Your Majesty. I have a gift for you that I hope you will find useful." I stare at his armor and begin incanting spells, speaking for over a minute in my language. Then I close my eyes and open them to look into his eyes. "It is done. That armor will shield you from the effects of magic, which you may find useful if you ever choose to visit my people again. It also has life sustaining properties now, and an enhancement to its overall strength."

Orik chuckles loudly. "I will remember that if ever I see another elven saturnalia again. Thank you Your Highness."

Saphira projects her thoughts to everyone as she presents her gift, and she refuses even help from Eragon. As the dwarven choir sings, Saphira sways to the music and I feel a huge amount of energy suffuse her body. She touches her nose to the formerly shattered gemstone and light flashes though it. When the light dies down, the gem is whole again, but a richer shade of red, with streaks of gold in the innermost petals.

And with the gem restored, the day ends with celebrations almost equal to those of the elves, though with less magic and more drinking songs. Saphira and Sorin manage to empty barrel after barrel of ale, and it is a good thing that Sorin cannot fit into their drinking halls, otherwise everyone inside would have been cooked by the intensity of his flames.


	11. Chapter 11

When I awaken in the morning, I say my goodbyes to Orik and Eragon. And leaving Eragon to report my departure to Nasuada, Sorin and I start our journey back to the Varden. We stop each night to rest, which makes our trip take about five days. Not so long that anything manages to happen to the Varden, but long enough that it causes me to worry some.

Though one thing troubles me. Now that Murtagh's identity threatens Eragon's life, my grandfather will probably reveal the truth to him. I hadn't known that Murtagh was also a child of Eragon's mother, but I had met his father once. I smile to myself as I think of the irritating old man that I admire so much. Brom, a Rider to be admired, the first leader of the Varden, Bane of the Forsworn, and Eragon's father.

Sorin and I arrive at the Varden just in time, for the siege of Feinster begins in a couple of days. Sorin and I get a long night of sleep, and in the morning, I scry with my grandfather. He has his traveling robes on, as well as armor and a helmet. At his waist hangs his sword Naegling.

"Are you well Ciara?"

I nod. "I am very well. The siege of Feinster should start soon. Sorin and I are ready to have this battle finished by the time Eragon returns." I smile with confidence. "I will see the traitor dead for his crimes. And then, Sorin and I can finally leave."

Oromis smiles sadly. "I know that it has been a hard life for you. But now that you are becoming independent, even though you are both still only children, you are clearly carrying the spirits of your parents with you. Your father was quite like you. He chafed under the customs of our society, and is why he took comfort in a human woman, though a Rider nonetheless. If the two of you wish to leave after this war, then I will not stop you. I only offer you advice. Follow your heart, but always take a step back to look at a situation logically before diving headfirst into a problem. Now you go into battle at Feinster, just as Glaedr and I will go into battle at Gil'ead. Live strong and proud."

"I will." A tear falls from my eyes. "I love you Grandfather."

"And I you, my dear." He gives me the smile that happens rarely, but that I always want to see. A smile that conveys love and affection. His image disappears and I hold that warm feeling in my heart for two days, until the battle finally begins.

Unfortunately, even with a dragon on our side, Feinster and its walls prove very difficult to overcome without tearing the whole city apart, which is what we are trying to avoid. We are also trying to avoid burning it down. Add to that, Sorin has barely slept in a week, and he has eaten enough to feed a whole village. So while Sorin rests, I go with Arya and Blodhgarm to infiltrate the city and open the gates from the inside.

But when we get inside the city by scaling the wall, we are ambushed by a troop of soldiers while three magicians attack our minds, and we are pinned in like cattle. The three of us fight desperately, but there are just so many soldiers. I lash out with magic and send a few soldiers flying. Blood coats my blades as I dance around.

When Eragon miraculously arrives, I feel a little put out, since I haven't managed to end the battle yet. But to be fair, I wasn't expecting the gates of the city to be reinforced against magic. He arrives with a new sword, as blue as Saphira's scales. And when he offers to distract the soldiers with Saphira, Sorin appears and perches himself on one of the walls.

Arya and I pursue the three fleeing magicians, though she breaks off to deal with another issue. So it falls to me to pursue the sorcerers. They flee into a high tower, leaving enchanted traps behind them that I have to carefully disarm one by one. By the time I get to the top of the tower, Eragon and Arya have caught up.

When I fail to gain entry to the minds of the sorcerers, I sidle around to the window. Eragon and Arya go to the woman in the corner, the one in the purple dress. And somehow, I sense Glaedr nearby. I do something very irresponsible and ignore the sorcerers in front of me, who are clearly trying to create a Shade, in favor of a short conversation with my grandfather's dragon.

 _Glaedr!? Is that you?_

 _Yes child, what is it? Oromis and I are in battle, concentrating on you in not a luxury I have in abundance right now._

 _Did you give your Eldunari to Eragon and Saphira?_

 _Yes I did. Oromis and I thought it prudent to do so. Is that all you wish to ask?_

 _Yes, I was simply confused when I felt your presence. Your Eldunari was the only explanation that I could think of._

 _Do you not have a battle of your own to fight?_

 _Yes, I will return to my battle, but I would prefer to keep in contact with you. It makes me feel safer, and the safer I feel, the better I can look at situations._

 _Very well child, I shall keep this contact, but images from our battles may cross the link, so be careful not to lose sight of the particular battle you are fighting._

I return to my surroundings and watch as Arya and Eragon attempt to kill the sorcerers. I add my blows to the mix, but the wards around the sorcerers are strong and it takes us many tries to make our way through their wards and kill them one by one.

But it is too late. The man that the three were trying to turn into a Shade rises, his hair crimson and his skin pale. But the image is broken by a vision of Murtagh, seen through Glaedr's eyes. He speaks with a voice different to the one I hear, older, more charismatic, and much more evil.

I see terrible things as the scene flashes before my eyes, removing myself from Glaedr's vision, and rather as if watching the scene from above. Then, as if slowed down just for me to watch, I see Murtagh, controlled at every moment by Galbatorix, strike my grandfather while he has one of his fits. The blood is everywhere, so much blood. Glaedr becomes frantic, trying to save Oromis, but to no avail, my grandfather dies in the skies over Gil'ead. But then Thorn bites Glaedr at the base of his skull, severing the spinal cord and killing the huge golden dragon as well.

As I return to myself, I stumble backwards. The shock overwhelms me, and I strike the window with my leg, stumbling further and falling backwards out of the window. Before I can hit the ground, Sorin catches me in his claws, fluttering carefully to the ground.

I feel the roaring of sorrow coming from Glaedr and the reality hits me. Tears begin pouring from my eyes and I shake uncontrollably. I scream and shake and cry. My magic starts running rampant and I can't think anymore. I can't have just lost the last of my family. I can't!

 _Ciara…please calm down._ Sorin pleads with me. _If you continue on like this, you will kill many people with your wayward magic._

"NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! HE CAN'T BE GONE!" More tears pour down my cheeks. "HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE STRONGEST! THE WISEST! HE WAS ALL I HAD LEFT! HE CAN'T JUST BE GONE!" The ground cracks around me. "IS THAT TRAITOR SATISFIED NOW? STRIPPING ME OF EVERYTHING WITH HIS OWN HANDS?

 _Please Ciara! Seeing you like this hurts me more than you know. Please stop…_

I scream and cry, and my magic flows outward, tearing up everything in its path. "WHY!? WHY DOES THAT EVIL TRAITOR HAVE TO TAKE EVERYTHING AWAY FROM ME?" I feel the last of my strength ebbing away, so I loose one last bloodcurdling scream before collapsing to the ground.

Sorin picks me up off the ground and carefully and slowly walks over to where Eragon and Arya are. I barely register them. But I do faintly hear Sorin's voice. _Please leave her to me, she needs to be alone now. I will look after her._

And so, Sorin takes me outside of the city and positions me upright in a sitting position on a nearby hill. He lies down around me, supporting me and keeping me from drifting off into a void of nothingness. But I want to stop feeling. I know that someone with a heart of stone is useless in this fight, but I want to throw away all of my emotions if it means that I can be free of this maddening emptiness.

"The House of Thrandurin is gone." My voice is empty and cold. "The royal family of the Broddring Kingdom is gone." I pick at the grass between my feet. "Who am I now? There is nothing left except killing Galbatorix. But that won't give me back what I've lost. And nothing can ever replace it."

 _I know that I can never replace the family that you have lost. But you haven't lost everything, just as I haven't lost everything. We still have each other, and that is what still matters._

More tears pour down my cheeks as I watch the rising of the sun. While the world celebrates a new day, and the Varden celebrates a victory, I have nothing but my grief, and an emerald dragon to comfort me. And in my daze, I vaguely register Blodhgarm finding me and carrying me to my tent back at the camp. After that, I fall asleep in tears.


	12. Chapter 12

The next few days, or maybe weeks, I can't tell how much time passes. I sink into a state of depression, ignoring everything around me. Nothing seems to have color. That is, until Arya comes into my tent, wielding an object of such magical power that it forcibly jolts me from my stupor.

I look at the spear, then up at Arya. "What is it?"

Arya crouches and shows it to me. "This is Du Niernen, The Orchid. This is one of the Dauthdaertya from the wars with the dragons long ago. This spear has the power to kill dragons."

I look up at her. "It can pierce through enchantments?"

She nods. "Do you understand what that means?"

And for the first time in a long time, I smile. "It means that Galbatorix's days are numbered."

"Alright, come with me. The were-cats are here to see Nasuada, and I think that getting up and about will do you some good." She insists so strongly that I agree to leave my tent, but only after changing into a new set of leather armor that has come for me from Orik. Though how he knew that my armor needed repairing, and how he knew what sizes to have it made in are a mystery to me.

With some help from Sorin, since my energy is low from not eating, I make it to Nasuada's pavilion in time to see exactly what Arya had said. There are were-cats here to seek an alliance with the Varden to aid in bringing down Galbatorix.

I watch the proceedings from the shadows, and see that they end successfully and without incident. In fact, it may be one of the easiest negotiations I've ever seen. And Nasuada seems relieved as well, even more so when she catches a glimpse of me. "Ciara! Is that you?"

I nod and step forward. "It has been some time."

She looks a bit pained as she watches me. "Are you alright? Should you be walking around? You haven't eaten a thing for two weeks."

I shake my head. "No. I am not alright." I feel my anger bubbling inside me. "I will not be alright until that traitor, murderer and beast lies dead at my feet." My eyes must be shooting daggers, because everyone recoils. "He will pay for what he has done to me. Because he has just pushed me over the edge."

Nasuada leans forward. "I understand that you are upset over the death of your teacher, but you cannot allow it to cloud your thoughts."

"Upset?" My hands start to shake. "Yes, over the death of my teacher, I am indeed upset." Then my temper snaps and I tell her exactly what she needs to know. "But Oromis was not just my teacher. He was my grandfather, the only family that I had left. He was my connection to society, the only home I've ever had. And once this war is over, there is nothing left for me to do. Sorin is the only one I have left, and because of how I was born, we don't belong in any world. Not with the elves, who look down on me for my weakness. And not with the humans, who look at me with suspicion or awe, who are so short lived that I will only see more people die around me."

Nasuada looks stunned, and at a complete loss for any words to comfort me. "I had no idea that he was your grandfather, Eragon only said that he was a teacher."

I laugh bitterly. "Because it wasn't his place to say anything. He couldn't just casually drop the fact that my grandfather just happens to be his teacher, not after he just died. And Eragon probably didn't mention that this is the fourth member of my family that I've lost at Galbatorix's hand."

Nasuada's shoulders sag. "No. With your grandfather and your uncle, that leaves two." She looks at me sadly. "You lost your parents to him too right?"

I nod. "All at his hand, though I will spare you the details. I have more reason than anyone to hate not his soldiers or his magic, or even his laws and regulations, but him himself. It is the man that I hate, because he is the one who single handedly destroyed my family. And if I can get my hands on him, I will cause him enough pain and misery to drive him even more insane than he already is." Then I take a deep breath and focus. "But for the meantime, I will settle for helping the Varden to win their battles."

Eragon walks towards me and wraps me in his arms. "We'll kill him, don't worry. If there is a way to kill him, we'll find it and use it." He pats my hair and I try to calm myself. Then he brightens up and smiles. "Now, let's get some food into you, I'm sure that you're starving."

Eragon pulls me to one of the cooking tents and orders several loaves of bread, plus some fruits and vegetables, and a wedge of cheese. When the cooks supply him with the food, we walk to a secluded spot and he watches me wolf down every piece of food. I hadn't realized how hungry I was until I start shoveling the food into my mouth.

A while later, Eragon calls me frantically. He says that Elain, Horst's wife, is going into labor. He asks me to stay within physical earshot, just in case anything goes terribly wrong. So I make my way to the tent, but the superstitious old women refuse to let me and Arya help with easing the birthing. And if there is one thing that elves excel at, it is helping to make childbirth painless and fast, since we sing the babies out of the womb instead of letting the mothers go into hard labor.

And so, hours pass, and Elain screams with pain as the child is slowly born into this war-torn world. Horst and his sons pace outside the tent, wringing their hands and hoping for Elain's screaming to stop soon and to let the baby be born safely.

With the men pacing around outside anxiously, Baldor finally asks something of me. "Why can't you go in there and help her? You are a healer right?"

I stare straight ahead in frustration. "If little old human women were less stubborn, then your mother and her baby would already be in recovery. As it is, I can't interfere without having my head bitten off. It makes me wonder if humans value their children at all."

He sits next to me. "Do the elves value children?"

I nod. "Generally speaking, yes. Children are few and far between, especially in the last century. But every elf values children, often of most any race." Then my eyes drop to the ground. "Though there has been a case where a child went unloved for the most part, which proves that there are exceptions in a particular type of case."

Baldor falls silent, and only Elain's sudden screams penetrate the silence. As the day wanes, we all wait, and wait, until eventually, with one last shrieking cry, a baby's hiccupping is heard. Then the women all start to shriek, and Arya drags Eragon into the tent.

When Eragon comes out with the baby in his arms, he motions for me to come over. "Ciara, I'm going to need your help." He shows me the child's face, and the cat lip that splits her lip, gums and upper palate. "You are better at healing magic than anyone, and if this is going to work, I'll need access to all of your knowledge."

I nod. "You have it."

"Absolutely not!" The old lady, Gertrude, glares at me. "I don't trust this woman, she could harm the child, or perhaps curse it." She shakes her head. "I refuse to let such a creature tend to the child."

And that is the last straw. I march up to the woman, despite Arya's attempts to stop me. "Creature? Well, at least you have the decency to insult me to my face, unlike most of the humans and elves who see me. Yes, I am the only halfling in all of history. But I am the best chance for that child to recover, and that is not boasting, it is a fact. I spent years tending to my herb garden, learning every ancient spell possible for healing, even making up a few of my own. I've studied the anatomy of elves, humans, dwarves, urgals, plus a whole host of animals. You can watch the whole process if you want. But if you try to stop me from doing what I am best at, then I will call Sorin over here and let you try to argue with a dragon!"

With that, she relents with a shocked expression. "There is no need for such hysterics. Very well, I will watch as the child is healed. But if you try anything funny, I will bring my complaints straight to Lady Nasuada."

I roll my eyes and sigh with exasperation. "Now that that's settled, come on, this child needs attention." I touch the baby's face and smile. "Don't worry little one, soon, you will look as cute and adorable as any baby."

Eragon and I walk to his tent, Gertrude follows, though somewhat subdued. She brings along a bag for her knitting, which makes me feel a little relieved. At least she will have something other than harassing me to occupy her time.

For half an hour Eragon and I debate on the exact wording of the spells that should be used to heal the baby. He draws on his knowledge of how humans grow, and I draw on my very intricate vocabulary, then explain the definitions of each word, and once we pick the words, I teach him the pronunciation. And with everything chosen and perfected, we meld our energies together, plus the energy of Saphira and Sorin, who have been lazing around near Eragon's tent for a while.

Eragon starts the tune and sings a soft little song, so I add my voice to his and provide a good harmony to his original melody. Together, and sometimes apart, our voices rise and fall. And slowly, carefully, under the watchful eye of Gertrude, we sing of flesh and skin and cartilage, of growing and of innocence, of childhood and infancy. Coaxing her body to grow in the shape that we want it to is difficult, especially since she is a baby, and therefore her body is not as sturdy as that of an adult, and because in the place of some bones, she still has cartilage. But little by little, her palate fuses together, her gums grow to the right shape, and her lip knits itself back together, leaving her face beautiful and unmarked. And she graces us with a huge smile and happily waving fists.

With the baby healed, I lean back on Eragon's bed and sigh with relief. "At least that's finished. I'm stiff and sore and tired, I've never felt so tired after a healing session." I pull myself to my feet. "Alright Eragon, go on and take her out. Show her to her father, that way I can leave quietly while they all focus on you."

Eragon smiles a relieved smile. "Thank you so much for your help, I couldn't have done this without your medical knowledge."

My eyes droop a little, but I stay conscious. "I'm glad to be of help." Eragon exits the tent and I hear whispers and crows of happiness. I press my hands to my knees and lean heavily on them to brace myself. "Ok world, when you stop spinning, I'm going to go eat, then sleep all day."

Gertrude drapes a blanket over my shoulders. "Be careful not to catch a chill. I'll have one of the boys take you back to your tent."

Before I can refuse her offer, she hobbles out of the tent and I hear her voice faintly calling for someone. Seconds later, Baldor enters the tent. "Gertrude says that you need help to get back to your tent." Then he looks at my face and recoils. "You look even paler than usual, and did you change the color of your makeup?"

I shake my head. "The pigments are magical. Sorin accidentally cast magic on them when he was younger, so now, they change color according to my emotions."

"And that dark and pale shade of yellow means…?"

I look at my hands, studying the color. "That I'm too tired to think properly, probably the color of lethargy. All I need is a good night's sleep and plenty of food." I try to get up, but fall back down when a wave of dizziness hits me. "And I need the ground and sky to decide where they want to be."

Baldor grabs my arm and lifts me to my feet, keeping a hold on me that helps me stay upright. "I'll take you to your tent. And thank you for tending to my sister."

I shake my head. "If my magic can help an innocent child avoid a terrible fate, then I must do whatever I can to help."

"Still, we cannot thank you enough for your help. Eragon insists that he could not have succeeded alone." Baldor slowly walks me to my tent. "But still I have to wonder, how did you stand up to Gertrude's stubbornness?"

I laugh bitterly. "In one respect, elves and humans are similar. Both dislike what they consider to be abominations of nature. And so, her stubbornness is not something that I am unfamiliar with."

"You mean half human and half elf?"

It startles me to know how astute this human is. Most that I've met are either too curious, or too obsessed with superstition or war. "Yes. I am the first child ever born of a union between a human and an elf. Although I am not hated like the Urgals, I am shunned by both societies because I could belong to either. My flexibility is the cause of my isolation." I shake my head. "And I've said more than I should. I can't expect humans to sympathize. Your lives are short, and if I live through these next battles, and if Galbatorix is finally killed, then my life will span however many years, centuries or even millennia that I choose."

"You're immortal?" Baldor looks shocked. "So you can be killed in battle, but not of old age?"

I nod. "There are many ways to kill me, but provided that I survive those dangers, I will live long enough to see future empires rise and fall, the crowning of countless kings and queens, even perhaps a changing of the system of governing entirely. But that is assuming that I stay close by. But I can think of no reason to stay."

When we finally reach my tent, Sorin wraps his tail around it, creating a perimeter around the tent. He lowers his head to look at Baldor, as he usually does when speaking directly to someone. _Thank you for bringing her here, I fear that if I had done it, she might have been sick._

 _I'm fine Sorin, just tired and dizzy._

Sorin snorts a hot breath at me. _You aren't fine, you just can't see it. I can see clearly that you will be in no shape to fight until at least tomorrow morning. But since the Varden are going to be packing up soon, you should rest while you have the chance._

I thank Baldor for his help, then turn into my tent and fall onto my bed, utterly exhausted. My eyes droop slowly, and eventually close, plunging me into dreams of dancing through the rivers and forests of Du Weldenvarden. And in my sunlit dreams, a dark haze falls over my world, as I remember that I am alone, with only Sorin for company. And even in my dreams, I cry.

Suddenly, I feel the touch of Glaedr's mind, and dimly hear his voice. But when I reach out for the contact, he is gone again, like leaves fluttering in the wind. But with the Varden packing up all around the camp, I pack my things, load them onto Sorin, then strap myself into the saddle to continue sleeping, which no one seems to mind.


	13. Chapter 13

When I finally awaken, the Varden are still on the move, though Sorin has no trouble keeping ahead of the army, checking for danger and keeping me safe. There isn't much to do in the days of traveling, especially for me, just sitting on Sorin and lazing about. So I do a lot of meditation, trying to formulate as many ways to circumvent wards as possible, creating new spells and improvisational magic.

And so, day after day, we travel north, straight to the city of Dras-Leona. And seeing the peaks known as Helgrind is an interesting and terrible experience. The trees sing of sacrifices and evil things that walked the land. The Ra'zac and the Lethrblaka.

The city seems so dark and cold, even from a distance. I watch the city for hours, trying to find the best possible way to attack it. And when the time finally comes for a diplomatic approach, an unexpected opponent joins to fight for Dras-Leona. Murtagh and his red dragon Thorn. He challenges us to throw ourselves against the walls and try to take the city, confident that no one will be able to take it.

And soon, a messenger comes from the elves, carrying a gift for me. The gift is a full set of silver scale armor, as well as a new set of leather armor. I strap on the first layer of leather armor, then the scale armor. With my energy replenished and new armor, I feel very prepared for battle, even if that means fighting Murtagh.

I watch as Eragon practices his swordplay with Arya. But her ability to beat him over and over frustrates him. I feel inclined to offer to practice with him, which would frustrate him less, but also leave him to teaching me what he knows rather than improving his own hand.

Suddenly, Glaedr speaks, with a melancholy and sorrowful voice. And soon, everyone swarms him with questions, except for me, because if I am to speak with him, I want it to be private. And after much arguing and coaxing from the elves, and a very challenging insult from Blodhgarm to force Glaedr out of his shell of misery, though it is certainly not a safe approach, he emerges in full.

Saphira calms Glaedr using flattery and gentle admiration, which is a very good way of dealing with an angry dragon. Because angry or not, all dragons love to be flattered. And despite his rather second-hand knowledge of the subject, Glaedr agrees to help train Eragon in the sword. And so, for hours upon hours, and countless bouts between Eragon and Arya. Eragon learns what Glaedr meant when he said to look at what you are seeing.

When the bouts finally end, Nasuada calls for us to meet at Eragon's tent. When she addresses the topic at hand, she has figured out that the presence she sensed was indeed Glaedr. And he even deigns to speak with her. After a lengthy discussion about strategy and the situation at Dras-Leona, Glaedr promises to think on it and see what can be done to improve the situation.

When Nasuada leaves, Glaedr decides to start training Eragon's mind, by having him engage in mental battles with Arya, occasionally having Saphira take a side. Finally, Glaedr has me take on Eragon, with no help from either of our dragons. Eragon seems a little taken aback, but does as Glaedr says and tries to besiege my mind.

Glaedr could not have picked a worse partner for Eragon to try to defeat in a mental battle. I may have had little training for my body, but Oromis had thoroughly trained my mind. The training was so arduous that by the end, I could hold my own with my grandfather. As such, Eragon can find no point of entry, and as it frustrates him, I quickly plunge into his mind, sweeping aside memories and going straight for the part of his mind that will allow me to immobilize him.

I smirk at Eragon. "Oromis trained me himself, for hours upon hours. My mind is so well defended that I can even put layers of defenses in my mind. Layers that allow people to peer into certain memories, but keep others hidden, like a city with rings. The less important buildings are kept by the outer walls, whereas the most important buildings are at the center, with several walls between them and the outside of the city."

Eragon grunts in frustration. "I see what you mean, so could you please let me go, it's getting hard to breathe." And so I release him.

 _Child, I would speak with you later, if you are willing._

 _Yes. I have been anticipating this very much._

I leave the tent, but sometime later, I feel the trickling of Glaedr's thoughts, making their way towards me. _So child. I realize that in my state of misery, I had forgotten that I was not the only one who had lost Oromis. And while he and I were bonded for centuries, he was almost your entire world, as well as your only home. I am sorry for neglecting you, Oromis would never have wanted you to experience such loneliness._

 _I still have Sorin._ I feel sadness welling up inside of me. _But he is all that I have now. My family has been exterminated by Galbatorix's own hand, and I am the only one left._

 _And I have lost my entire race._

I feel bitter and resentful at that comment. _But you could live happily among the elves for centuries to come, even just as a consciousness in a piece of crystal. I can't stay there. I have no place there without Oromis. Without my family, I have no place anywhere except in the sky, flying wherever the wind takes me and Sorin. That is the only future that awaits me, since without an abundance of dragon eggs, we cannot restore the Riders. And Eragon will probably go to his home in Carvahall. That leaves me. With nothing to do and nowhere to go._

I cut the connection and keep walls around my mind until he finally relents and stops trying to touch my mind. And I ignore him for several days, opting to train by myself, as well as to visit the infirmary daily to heal wounded soldiers.

Jeod, a historian who was a friend of Brom's finds the lynchpin, the key to taking Dras-Leona. And he happily shouts his success to Eragon, where I can clearly hear him. Eragon calls me over and we go to see Nasuada. Jeod explains the existence of a tunnel under Dras-Leona, a drainage system of sorts. And he tells us that not only was it constructed, but he can find it for us.

With a plan being devised, I dislike the idea of being separated from Eragon. But it is soon decided that he, along with Arya, Angela and Wyrden, will be the ones to go underneath Dras-Leona. As for me, I decide to be bold at the meeting, but wait for the right time.

Nasuada finally raises and objection. "But what about Murtagh and Thorn? We can't leave them to devastate our army as they please while the four of you go underground."

Before Eragon can speak, I cut him off. "I will deal with Murtagh. Now that I know exactly what he has on his side, I know that Sorin and I can crush him. In a battle of spell-casters, he is hardly my equal. The injury he caused me last was because we were fighting in his style, in which I had very little training. But if this is to be a battle of magic, then my knowledge, training and discipline will far outstrip his abilities."

Nasuada nods, happy to see my determination. "And I know that you have trained hard to learn many of the arts of war. I can see no one who could better take on Murtagh, especially since you have no prior emotional connection to him."

I nod. "I do not blame him for the death of my grandfather, as it was Galbatorix who swung his arm, and as for my injury, it was my own fault for overestimating myself. Now, I am well prepared for the fight that will ensue."

 _As am I._ Sorin's voice booms from outside the tent. _You can be sure that Murtagh and Thorn will not get the better of us. Especially now that there is nothing left to lose. Those that have nothing to lose make the most dangerous enemies, because they no longer allow emotions to cloud their judgment._

And so, with everyone clear on the plan, Sorin and I take turns sleeping, restoring our energy periodically, and waiting for the battle to begin. The wait is long and arduous, and my patience starts to wear thin with the same boredom as the rest of the warriors.

When Eragon finally gives the signal, Sorin rears and roars so loudly that the entire city shakes. Saphira takes off into the air, with Blodhgarm riding her, cloaked in magic that made him appear to be Eragon. Sorin also takes off into the air, with me on his back and in nearly full armor, though I forego a helmet for the sake of being able to react faster to my surroundings.

Bells ring as Saphira and Sorin bear down on the city I take out my bow and keep an arrow nocked. I watch as Thorn and Saphira collide, grappling and ripping at each other. I watch for a moment, but it is clear to me that without the teamwork that Saphira and Eragon have together, Blodhgarm cannot effectively fight alongside Saphira.

 _Saphira, go help the Varden, Sorin and I will take on Murtagh and Thorn._ And when she finally pulls away, Thorn chases her. I put away my bow and strap myself in for a very wild ride. Sorin tackles Thorn, who is about the size of Saphira, perhaps a little bigger, but still significantly smaller than Sorin. We spin through the air and Sorin keeps us all from crashing into buildings.

I attack Murtagh with my mind, pushing through the Eldunari that try to block my way. The Eldunari must come from small dragons, because they are not trained as sharply as Sorin. I plough against Murtagh's mind and he fights back. He is obviously more trained than the dragons, but with Sorin engaging Thorn, who is still only a hatchling, and the young Eldunari, I can feel Murtagh weakening some under my assault.

 _I hope that you realize what you have done by obeying Galbatorix. I will see that traitor fall. And I have the right to be the one to drive a blade into his heart. If you insist on standing in my way, then Eragon's brother or not, I will kill you as well._

His mind is a focused thought, and I hear his voice, cold and a bit higher than I imagined, though still not of the same pitch as Eragon's. _Go ahead and try elf woman. Thorn and I will tear you to pieces first._

 _Then why don't you come and try it? Now we are playing at my level, not yours. So come out of your comfort zone and have a duel with me, here in the air, on the backs of dragons. Let us see whose mind is stronger._

He renews his efforts, but I can tell that I've disturbed his thoughts. I drive at his mind with the force of a diving dragon. He does his best to keep me out, but with my intense mental attacks, he has no chance to launch a counterattack of his own, or to cast any spells without giving me access to his mind. Sorin uses this chance to bathe Murtagh and Thorn in an inferno, hurling them into a pit, where Murtagh's wards protect him from being crushed by Thorn, causing the dragon's back to arch painfully.

Sorin roars in triumph, and as Thorn tries to scramble out of the pit, he only brings down more rubble on top of himself. Sorin breathes a torrent of green and gold fire, trying to roast Murtagh and Thorn alive. I can still sense them down there, but with such an advantage now, I see no need to continue a mental assault. And for several minutes, Sorin keeps a powerful flame going into the pit, melting the stone edges and raining molten rock down on them as well.

Thorn roars in agony and bursts out of the pit, flying into the air with some difficulty. Sorin takes off from the stone wall and we give chase again. I shoot a few arrows at Thorn, but their wards deflect them. Good to know, protection wards are easy to use as a way of exhausting an opponent. Saphira flies off somewhere when she suddenly senses Eragon, though she flies directly in Sorin's path and forces him to stop in mid-air.

Seeing us stop, Thorn plunges down at us, so Sorin pulls a dangerous move. He flips upside down, shoots fire at Thorn, then flips right side up and glides out of the flight path of Thorn's dive. Murtagh and Thorn zoom past us, heading straight for Eragon in the main square of Dras-Leona.

 _Ciara! Sorin! Get out of the way, now!_

As Eragon asks, we fly in a different direction, giving Eragon a very clear shot at Thorn, without giving him the added task of trying to avoid hitting us. We spiral to the ground and Sorin flares his wings, since Eragon's plan is to use Aren to end this battle immediately. I watch as a huge pile of rubble flies at Thorn, shredding his wing and sending him flying through the air, and not in a good way.

With the battle essentially decided, Murtagh yells to us that Galbatorix doesn't care if we take Dras-Leona, and that we can have it for all he cares. But for the harm caused to Thorn, he will have blood. He and Thorn fly off, but Sorin resists the urge to pursue them. Instead, he unleashes a roar and a torrent of fire that spans a length of over sixty feet.

With a day of battles finished, I feel rather tired. For only me and Sorin to go up against Murtagh and Thorn, as well as a host of Eldunari on our own for over half an hour, it was impressive. But it leaves me tired and sore, for the mental battle took more out of me that I would like to admit. I strip off my scale armor and down to my soft leather clothes. I fall down onto my bed and try to fall asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

My restless sleep is broken by the roars of a dragon. Without the time to put on my armor, I rush outside with my swords in hand. I see Murtagh dragging Nasuada onto Thorn, then strapping himself into his saddle.

 _Sorin! We have to fly now!_

He lies down fast, causing the ground to quake. I mount him and hold on with only the strength of my legs as he takes off into the sky, chasing Murtagh. And I know, that in order to rescue Nasuada, I will likely have to jump from Sorin to Thorn and engage Murtagh in battle on his own dragon. _Into battle we fly, and this time, I won't let him out of my sight._

We soar through the sky, and I see Eragon and Arya using Saphira to get close to Thorn. In a matter of seconds their attempt at rescue fails, sending Arya spiraling down through the air, struck by Thorn's tail after she tries to get on his back. Eragon, falling through the air as well, dives toward Arya, and has Saphira catch them below. But now, Murtagh and Thorn are my fight. I climb back towards the tip of Sorin's tail, where I lodge myself in an indentation between his spikes.

 _Be careful, Arya is older than you, and she failed to get on Thorn, so be very careful._

I grin and laugh. _I am a Rider, she is not. I know how dragons feel, how they move, and how they react, better than she ever has. Just watch me go._

Sorin flings me with his tail and I soar towards Thorn. I grab one of the spikes on his back, having left one of my swords behind on Sorin. I jump towards Murtagh, who unstraps himself and turns, sword in hand to defend against my attack.

"How the hell did you get up here?" He yells at me. "That Arya failed, so how did you succeed!?"

"I have a dragon." I slam my sword down, trying to cleave his skull. "I'm good at aerial acrobatics. Especially since Sorin and I got really bored in the forest."

Murtagh uses magic to strap himself back in, he also straps in Nasuada. "Thorn! Spin!"

Thorn bobs his head and starts to spin quickly, giving me vertigo, and nearly hurling me off. My sword tears free from my grip, so I hang on to the base of the spikes, pressing myself against the scales and holding on for dear life. But as I can't control my thoughts while in such an extreme situation, Murtagh breaks my defenses and everything turns black as I wrestle for control and lose.

Murtagh's P.O.V

The girl put up quite the fight, forcing him to resort to spinning at high altitude to try and get her off, a very dangerous maneuver that could have sent him and Nasuada hurtling to the ground. But when that failed as well, he attacked her mind, winning in the contest, as her focus was divided between holding on to Thorn's spikes, and fending off his mental attack.

As she falls unconscious, he remembers his orders from Galbatorix. To seize this girl if the opportunity presents itself. His main priority, kidnapping Nasuada, this girl is just a bonus. In any case, as she falls off Thorn's back, he guides his ruby dragon in a loop, circling back and pulling her right out of the air.

With Nasuada secured behind him in the saddle, he holds this girl himself, keeping her from falling as he and Thorn retreat back to Uru'Baen. This is the first time he's seen her this clearly. Usually, there is a weapon and a hood between them, or at least half a mile, and two raging dragons. Now, though, he can see her face clearly. She's younger than him, younger than Eragon as well. She must be no older than sixteen.

How is it possible that she hid from Galbatorix for so long, because until she suddenly appeared at the battle on The Burning Plains, Galbatorix had no idea that she even existed. And how is it that a girl, because unlike his earlier assumption, she is clearly not a woman yet, managed to make her way into this war in the first place.

He brushes her hair from her face, revealing the silvery markings that curl over her forehead, around her eyes, down her neck, and presumably over the rest of her body, considering that she has the markings on her hands as well. The markings compliment her features, which are very delicate compared to human girls, though in his opinion, more attractive than what he's seen of elves. To him, the elves seem cold, pale, and unearthly. With her lightly tanned skin and bright green eyes, she has a much more natural look to her. Her ears curve to graceful points, but her eyes are rounder and more level than an elf's. In short, she's absolutely beautiful. And he can't imagine what Galbatorix wants with her, seeing as her dragon is male, and she's no political leader. _So why does he want her? What value does she hold? Or does he just find her interesting? He does have an insatiable curiosity when it comes to the truth, so perhaps he wants answers from her._

But wondering what this girl has to do with anything will have to wait until they reach Uru'Baen. There, maybe some of the questions swirling around in his head will be answered. Until then, all he can do is marvel at the sight of the girl in his arms.

Ciara's P.O.V

I come to in a dark room. I look around and sit up. I try to stand, but I find that I'm chained to a stone bench. I reach for magic, but I can't feel any. _Ok, so I'm chained up in a room that looks very old and somewhat elven. I can't reach for magic, and I can't reach out and touch any minds. The last thing I remember is fighting Murtagh, which means that either I was captured from him, or I am most likely in Ilirea, being held captive by Galbatorix._

I try to break the chains, but it seems that they have been reinforced with magic, and the floor has been swept clean. I have nothing to work with, especially since my leather clothes are too soft to be fashioned into leather weapons. "Well this bites." I feel frustrated and defeated. _I guess that this guarantees my death. Galbatorix won't want to let me live, not when he finds out who I am. So I might as well entertain myself while I'm his prisoner._

I don't bother to note the time passing, since Galbatorix could be making it seem faster or slower. I do note that I am currently in no pain, nor do I feel woozy or sick in any way, which rules out most drugs. So what is most likely keeping me from my magic is a spell that Galbatorix has cast on this place. _Great, that means that I have to sit here and wait until either Galbatorix lifts the spell, someone comes to rescue me, or I die. So not very likely alternatives to dying._

Which presents me with the issue of finding a way to entertain myself. With nothing to read, all I can do is bring up problems outside this place and try to find solutions to them based on all the things I have learned and experienced. But that can only entertain me for so long, because I soon run out of problems.

The door on the other side of the room opens, revealing two men. I sit down on the bench, cross my left leg over my right and cross my arms, watching them as they enter. I stay silent, staring at them, waiting for them to speak first.

"Not only did you seem to appear out of thin air, it seems that you are also a reckless young lady." The man in black has a deep voice, rich and charismatic, but it grates my nerves as I recognize it. "I have wanted to meet you ever since I learned of you and your dragon. Leaving the forest was an unwise decision little elf."

I keep my gaze calm and cold. "So, exactly how much of my puzzle have you managed to fit together?"

He sits in a chair on the far side of the room, shrouded in darkness, but I can still sense his presence by the way he breathes, the scent on the breeze, and the vibrations in the air. "Not enough to satisfy my curiosity. So I was hoping that you would enlighten me."

I narrow my eyes. "Well, that depends on what you've heard. A girl has to have her secrets." I smile insolently, but he only seems amused.

"Are you trying to entertain yourself while here?"

I nod. "I get bored easily, I always need to have something to do, and otherwise my mind wanders to places I would rather forget."

He leans forward a little, allowing me to see his dark beard and lightly tanned skin. "First of all, I have heard that you are a halfling. It has always been thought impossible, yet here you sit. Is it true?"

The smile disappears from my face. "Starting with the insults already. I expected better." I roll my eyes with impatience. "Yes. Though the humans see me as an elf, and the elves see me as a human, I belong to both, as well as neither." I scoff bitterly. "Does that answer satisfy you?"

He nods. "Half elf and half human. No wonder the drugs don't affect you as they should."

"My turn." I smirk a little. "Where is Nasuada?"

The other man raises his hand to hit me, but Galbatorix stops him. "No. I will play this game with her. There is no harm in it." The man lowers his hand and steps back a few feet, though I catch a glimpse of his silver mask.

"The elves do enjoy their games, and I find that I enjoy them as well. So thank you for agreeing to play with me." I keep my insolent smile on my face, though Galbatorix seems unperturbed.

He nods. "She is here, though in another room. She is alive, fret not. Now it is my turn again. Are there any other Riders hidden from my sight?"

I shake my head. "I'm sure that you would know better than me how many you've killed. Apart from the four of us, I know of no others. Not since you killed Oromis." I nod at him. "My turn again. Is it likely that I will live for much longer?"

He frowns a little. "Considering your disposition, I think not. Then again, it may be interesting to have a youngling like you around who can provide good conversation. My turn again. What is your name?"

I let out a bitter laugh. "I assume that you mean my given name. I would not divulge my true name to you. Though I'm sure that if I did, your black heart may actually feel some pity for once." And so, the markings on my body darken. "I am Ciara, the last member of House Thrandurin."

"Oh!?" Galbatorix looks amused with that answer. "So that is your connection to Oromis. If I were to guess, I would say that grandfather is the most likely answer."

I deign not to answer that. "My turn. How many Eldunari do you have in the castle?"

Galbatorix shakes his head. "That is a naughty question. Such young Riders aren't supposed to know."

"I've been a Rider nearly six years. Sorin hatched for me when I was ten years old. And I've been very thoroughly trained, that includes knowing several things that the Riders consider top-secret." I stare at him. "Humor me."

Galbatorix looks a little surprised. "Six years? So the size of your dragon is completely natural. Alright then. I have several hundred of them in this castle. Most are rather juvenile, far too young to be of much help. Some of them are quite large, a testament to the massive size of some of their original bodies."

I nod. "Glaedr was quite large until he was murdered."

Galbatorix taps his chair. "Yes, an unfortunate turn of events. Now, it is my turn to ask a question. Murtagh says that you claimed to have the right to drive a blade into my heart. Why do you think to have that right?"

At that, my markings turn pitch black. "I care nothing for your rules or your wars. Yes, I mourn the Riders of old because the dragons are now tumbling into extinction. But my reasons for wanting your death are personal. You personally destroyed each member of my family, leaving me with no ties to anything. I have no one left to tie me to society. I was an outcast as a child, but now, I am essentially non-existent. That is why. Now it is my turn. Did you furnish this room? Because it could really use some alterations."

His lip twitches. "No, I did not. It is kept clean and sanitary, and that is all that matters. Now for a curiosity of mine. Those markings of yours, why do they change color?"

I lift my arms and untie my leather vest, leaving only the woven shirt. I push the sleeves up to my shoulders, exposing the designs on my arms. "I originally intended for them to change color according to a spell. But Sorin, in his young and curious stage, touched them and cast a spell on the pigment. Now, the colors change according to my emotions, which is why it is impossible for me to lie convincingly. Because of that, I have made a habit of never even bothering to try lying. Why try when my emotions give me away…" Now I feel bored of our conversation. "So, now that we've exchanged pleasantries, why don't we get to the real reason that you've come to pay me a visit."

"You may be young, but you are quite observant." Galbatorix rises from his chair. "Bring her along, and keep as firm a grip on her as you need to, I don't mind if she bruises."

The other man murmurs a spell and my shackles come free. He takes me by the arm and pulls me along. I see twisting light reflecting in his silver mask, and then I recognize the set of his jaw and the color of his hair. "Murtagh." I look straight ahead and empty my mind of all fear and anxiety. Whatever the ordeal is, it doesn't matter anymore. "I hope that your conscience can accept your decisions."

"Shut up."

They escort me to a room with chains hanging from the ceiling. Murtagh pushes me forward and attaches the chains to my wrists, forcing my arms above my head. Next, he chains my feet to the floor. I see a brazier in a corner, with iron rods sticking out of it.

"Wonderful. At least you've decided on a well-tested torture method." I pull on the chains. "Sturdy chains too. You wouldn't want me to escape, then run right out of your castle."

"No, that I would not." Galbatorix sits in a far more comfortable looking chair this time. "Murtagh, tend the brazier." Then Galbatorix focuses his eyes on me. "Preferably, I would like to have the fealty of all three Dragon Riders, but you are the one that I can afford to lose if I have to lose one of the three."

I smile at him. "If you think to make me yours, go ahead and try it. I may shatter into a million pieces, but I will never bend to your will."

Galbatorix smiles slightly. "We shall see." He waves his hand, and I know what is coming.

The first touch of the iron come as a shock, which makes me gasp and shudder. But with each touch, I become less sensitive, and I only wince as Murtagh marks my back with dozens of burns. Galbatorix watches as I withstand pain that would likely kill humans.

"Stop, Murtagh." Galbatorix rises and I hear an iron being put back into the brazier. The king looks at me curiously. "You seem capable of withstanding a large amount of pain. Doesn't it hurt you?"

"Of course it hurts." I shrug as best I can while chained up. "It isn't quite as bad as that time that Sorin stepped on me, but yes, it hurts."

Galbatorix nods. "Perhaps this was a rash choice of implements." He takes a small bottle from his pocket. "Murtagh, you may go. Go check on our other guest."

Murtagh bows stiffly and leaves, giving me some time alone with the king. I glare at him. "So, what will it be now? Poison? A paralyzing agent? A toxin? Some kind of bacterial infection?"

He nods. "Yes, some poison. I had it made to use on Arya. But you should be just as susceptible." He touches my cheeks and coaxes my mouth open with pressure on my jaws. He drips the poison into my mouth and at first, nothing happens. He sweeps out of the room and the door slams.

At first, I feel warm. Then I feel freezing cold, as though liquid ice is being poured into my veins. I tremble and shudder. Time passes slowly or quickly, I can no longer tell. My body feels like needles are piercing it, millions of tiny needles in every vein of my body. Then I start to lose feeling in my extremities, the lack of feeling continues until my whole body is numb.

After a while, two guards come in and unshackle me. They drag me out of the room and down the hallway. They place me on the bench in my room and chain me back up. Without a word, they leave me to my solitude. And I know that one should not sleep when cold, but my body closes itself and I sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

Murtagh's P.O.V

He returns to check on the girl, Ciara, after checking on Nasuada. But when he returns to the torture room, Ciara is no longer there. There are no signs of a struggle, which means that she was likely returned to her cell.

So, he walks down the hallways until he finds himself outside her cell. There are no guards here, since there is no need. This part of the dungeon is completely inescapable, with enchantments woven into every corner of the building.

He opens the door, closes it behind him, making sure not to lock himself in, and sees her lying there on the stone bench. She's breathing, shifting a little, so most likely asleep, but clearly in pain, as she moans quietly and shivers. Her long brown hair drapes over her shoulders and tumbles off the bench, nearly sweeping onto the floor. Her skin is not like Arya's, much darker, proof that she spends much of her time in the sun in the elven forest. _She must like being outside. She did mention a garden, so maybe that's why she has skin the color of freshly baked bread._

 _Well, it seems that I got the answer to my question. Galbatorix wants her because of his curiosity, because of what she was born. Something we have in common, I guess. We were both born to be outcasts. And she didn't even scream. By all accounts, she should have been begging for mercy or screaming in pain, but she did nothing more than groan a few times. Either she has a huge tolerance for pain, or she's more stubborn than I thought._

He shakes his head, pushing away all sympathetic thoughts as she stirs, regaining consciousness after whatever Galbatorix did to her after he went to check on Nasuada. Her skin is losing color, probably from a lack of sunlight, and from whatever poison is coursing through her system. And despite his better judgement, he stays, waiting for her to wake up.

Ciara's P.O.V

When I wake up, I have no idea what time it is. My body is still cold, but the initial pain and numbness are gone. I push myself into a sitting position and shiver violently. I use meditation techniques to steady my breathing.

"Why did you do it?"

I look up into the corner near the door and see Murtagh's form. I look back down at my chains and continue to breathe carefully. "Because it's who I am."

"You only made it worse with your games and your defiance." He doesn't sound particularly concerned, merely looking for answers. "I thought that you were supposed to be some kind of meek little girl. At least that's one of the things that I saw flash through Eragon's mind."

"Hah." I shake my head. "That is because I'm the kind of person with two sides to them. The kind, sweet and gentle side that is shown when I find myself in the company of others. And the defiant, angry and brutally practical side that gives me the power to kill without hesitation. That is the part that I show to enemies, my antagonists, and whenever I'm faced with people who hate me for no other reason than I was born what I am." I nod at him. "I believe that you know the feeling."

His silver mask obscures most of his expression. "I do. But that still doesn't explain why you acted that way. You must have known that it would only make things worse for yourself."

"So?" I look at him with a bemused smile. "You haven't been a Rider very long, which means that you haven't come to terms with it yet."

"Come to terms with what?"

I hold up my hands. "Immortality. Living for eons, seeing the rise and fall of entire empires, kingdoms, countries. Regimes will come and go, and yet, those who are immortal will live to see it each and every time." I place my hands back down in my lap. "I was born in Ellesmera, which means that I grew up among the elves. I know what immortality looks like, and it seems rather boring to me. Especially if you're going to have to remain away from any kind of society."

Murtagh pauses, as though considering the concept of immortality. "How do they pass the time?"

"By mastering whatever it is their hearts desire." I feel rather sick to my stomach at the thought. "They just spend the endless years flitting through the trees, singing and dancing and mastering everything they want to. It goes on and on and on. But they have company. And if I have to live for eternity with only Sorin for company, I think that the both of us would go insane."

"Well if you don't stop with the attitude, you won't have to worry about eternity." He suddenly frowns. "Unless that is exactly what you're trying to do. Are you hoping that if you aggravate him enough, he will be persuaded to kill you?"

I look at him curiously. "You sound like you're trying to prevent that. I just think that since I'm most likely going to die here, I might as well keep myself entertained until he finally commits the final murder in wiping out two powerful bloodlines. In fact, I'm expecting him to kill me out of spite."

"And if you managed to get out of here somehow?" His questions just keep getting more and more treasonous, at least if his loyalty really is to Galbatorix. "What would you do if that happened?"

I shrug. "Go to Ellesmera, collect my things. Then I would probably go find a mountain, or maybe an island. Me and Sorin would be able to stay there without having to put up with ignorant and arrogant people. I have no reason to stay among the humans who think of me as something exotic and strange. And staying among the elves would just remind me of Oromis, plus make me angry enough with Vanir to probably convince me to murder him."

"Vanir?"

I shake my head. "One of the younger elves. He hates me. He says that my blood is dirty because my mother was a human. He completely ignores the fact that she was also a Rider, and over a hundred and fifty years old before she died." I feel my loneliness swell, so I turn my back to him and lie down on the cold stone bench. "If you stay any longer, Galbatorix will know. Even if I must die, I at least hope that Nasuada will go free. There is still hope for her, at least."

I hear him shift uncomfortably, then open the door, closing it behind him as he leaves. I hear the clinking of the lock and I feel another round of shivers shaking my body. I start to remember things that I never wanted to feel again. The loneliness, the isolation, and the tears I cried myself to sleep with when I was small. I never wanted to feel that sadness ever again. But now, with no one left to love me, no one but Sorin, I feel like I don't belong in this world.

After another fitful sleep, I wake to the sound of guards opening the door. I sit up and watch with apathy as they take off my shackles and drag me along to the torture room again. They string me up, just like yesterday. I watch them light and stoke the brazier, then they leave the room.

When no one enters for a while, I start getting agitated. "So, am I supposed to wait for you in here, or will you be getting on with today's burn treatments?"

"All in due time, my dear." Galbatorix walks in the door, this time alone. "I wished to speak with you first."

I nod at the door. "Will he be coming today?"

"Perhaps in a little while. There seems to have been an incident last night, and he is healing his hand." Galbatorix smiles. "Now, I would like to know if you are willing to serve me."

I smile at him as though looking at an irritating child. "Maybe if you start wearing a dress and singing saturnalia songs at the top of your lungs. I always like to help out fellow music lovers."

Galbatorix's smile vanishes. "I think not. Though I must say, you are not as polite as elfish customs dictate."

"That might be because I hate you for more reasons than I care to count." My smile turns sour. "Besides, I'm getting terribly bored with doing nothing but being tortured and sleeping. I like this banter, I need soften no punches with you."

The door opens and Murtagh enters, quiet and still. Galbatorix looks at him and flicks his hand. "Go heat the irons."

"Is she being impertinent again?"

I smile brightly at him. "Always. What else would I do with my time? There is no one here for me to heal, no plants for me to grow, and no books for me to read. If the three primary occupations of my time are unavailable to me, what else am I supposed to use to entertain myself?" Then I stick my tongue out at Galbatorix. "Immortality bites doesn't it?"

Galbatorix stays silent for a moment. Then he glances at Murtagh. "I think thirty will do for now." Then his expression darkens. "Unless you think that she deserves more?"

Murtagh coughs twice, then answers. "No, I wouldn't see why she does."

Galbatorix seems displeased. "Are you growing fond of her? Does her exotic beauty seduce your senses?"

Before Murtagh can refute it, I cut in with a harsh laugh. "Fond of me? Obviously he hasn't told you what really happened at Du Vollar Eldrvarya. During the fight, Eragon went down, so I jumped into the duel. But instead of fighting fair and square, this bastard waited for me to get distracted, then stabbed me straight through the stomach. Now that really hurt. It was the only time I'd ever been stabbed, which is why I'm just waiting for an opportune time for justice." I glare at Murtagh. "And I hope you heard every word of that, because I want it to haunt your dreams."

He jabs me in the back with the hot iron and I gasp in shock and pain. "Bastard, yes. But if you expect it to haunt me, you might have better luck if you didn't look like such a child. Grow up some before making threats, you aren't frightening enough." He pokes me a few more times with the iron and throws it back into the brazier in obvious agitation.

"Alright, enough." Galbatorix stands. "As I can see that you are having a moment. I will go see how our other guest is doing." He strides out of the room, taking the guards with him.

Once the door slams and the sound of the footsteps dies, Murtagh walks around in front of me and crosses in arms in impatience. "Why did you cover for me?"

"Who says I covered for you? I just felt like getting some frustration out." I make a pig's nose at him, just to see him glare. "Besides, it worked."

He throws his hands into the air. "You said that you don't lie, so what was that?"

"That was me saving you from his anger. Besides it wasn't a lie. I've been wanting to get that stabbing incident out of me for ages. You almost killed me you know."

His expression turns sour and bitter, as though biting into a very unripe orange. "That might be because I was trying to at the time."

"I know." And now is the time for being serious. "How is Nasuada?"

Murtagh turns inexplicably red. "I accidentally went to visit her while drunk last night. I said more than I should have. But all in all, she seems to be retaining her strength of will."

I feel a little relieved. "Will you help her with the pain?"

"The pain?" He looks confused. "Which pain are you referring to? There may be many."

I nod. "True. But I mean the physical pain. She is only human, and humans aren't actually that strong. The pain must be overwhelming for her. With my elven strength, I can withstand a lot of pain. She doesn't have that advantage. When it comes to strength of will, she is stronger than most. But her body is still only human, and it will break easily without support."

He inclines his head. "I will do what I can, but what I can do is limited by oaths and spells and what Galbatorix will and won't notice."

"I know." The chains jangle above me. "Which is why you can't help me. He will immediately know if you try anything. But with her, he wants her to survive this, he wants to see her determination break, but not so easily. He won't notice anything amiss if you help her. Me, on the other hand, helping me would make me much stronger and louder. And that would tip off your master." I say master in a scathing tone, which makes him visibly mad.

Murtagh clenches and unclenches his fists, then walks up to me and places his hand on my side. He mumbles something in a low voice, then I feel my skin crawling. He removes his hand and sighs. "There, that should at least make it seem more convincing."

I look down and see more burn marks, but I don't feel them. "Did you put fake burns on me?"

He grins, letting me see a smile for the first time. "I can pick up a few tricks too. Just try to act as though they hurt as much as the others."

I nod. "Then I will hang here until Galbatorix sees fit to give me yet another poison." I roll my eyes. "I guess that eating my own medicines is good for something. I developed a pretty strong resistance to poison."

Murtagh raises an eyebrow. "Is that so? I wouldn't mention it to him if I were you, otherwise he might start going to extremes."

I tilt my head and smile. "Maybe he is right on one count though. You seem so overly helpful that maybe my exotic beauty has charmed you so much that your mind is no longer your own."

His expression becomes flat, and in response to my remark, he pinches my arm hard enough to leave a large red mark. Then he turns his back and walks out of the room, slamming the door behind him. And I am left alone for several minutes, at least I think that it's minutes. Then Galbatorix reappears with two new vials of poison.

"These are two very special poisons. One is fast acting and causes pain. The other is slow acting and causes dulling of the senses." He forces my mouth open and pours both vials down my throat.

This new combination of poisons is infinitely more painful than the last. I try to keep myself quiet, but a few screams of agony escape me before I can muffle them. Galbatorix seems satisfied with the effectiveness of these poisons, so he leaves the room and allows me to hang there for hours and hours with no end in sight.

Whatever these poisons are, I have no resistance to them, which means that they are either magical, or they are something so rare or exotic that I have never had the chance to experiment with them. They cause sharp pains to my nerves, especially the ones in tender places, like the undersides of my arms and legs, my wrists, which are sore from the chains, as well as my ankles and the soles of my feet.

The agony only gets worse as time passes, and I can't move, for fear of provoking an attack of pain. I hang limply from the chains and my wrists chafe against the cold, rough metal. _I wonder if this is how Eragon felt when he was under the influence of Durza's curse? Always afraid of having an attack of pain._

I continue to hang there, though most of the blood is drained from my arms. I hear a slight clinking, but my senses are becoming dull, so I can't be sure that it is actually a sound, or something my mind is cooking up.

Murtagh's P.O.V

His mind is in turmoil, so he goes up to the palace rooftop to think. Thorn joins him up there, staying silent, obviously waiting for him to start a conversation, if that's what he needs. He's not one much for talking, since there isn't really anyone to talk to, at least, no one who understands him, other than Thorn.

Not until he brought those two to Uru'Baen. When talking to Nasuada, he can talk about serious topics, his past, and his beliefs. And when talking to Ciara, well, she riles him up more than anything else. Everything she does is so callous, but calculated. She's far more intelligent than she lets on, and she has a much more stubborn and obstinate heart than he suspected. And likely, more than Galbatorix suspected either, because the king has been getting frustrated, trying to deal with her. And her mind is like a fortress. Even in capturing her, he only managed to get through the first layer. It was enough to put her to sleep, but barely. Penetrating deeper is proving to be a challenge, even for the king.

As for him, his heart is confused. Meeting Nasuada for the first time was exhilarating, because it was like seeing a princess for the first time. She carried herself with dignity and grace, and she was intelligent and brave. Everything he can admire.

But Ciara, she's so different. He's met plenty of noble ladies in Galbatorix's court. But none of them are anything like her, and she really is a princess. She's candid and rude, brave, stubborn and reckless, kind and caring, from what he managed to see in Eragon's memories, and carrying around a lot more pain than she lets on. Unlike with Nasuada, he can understand Ciara without asking. He asks questions anyway, just to see if he's right in his assumptions, and he's found that he understands her, and she can probably understand him as well.

 _Thorn, what do I do? Ever since I brought her here, I've been questioning things more than I should, wondering things I shouldn't, and I've been reckless and stupid. I've even disobeyed orders to try and help her. My mind keeps wandering to her, and her face even appears in my dreams._

His big red dragon curls his tail around him, settling his snout down next to his arm. _I think that you've spent too much of your life alone, and now, you're trying to find someone to fill the void left behind when you and Eragon parted._

 _That doesn't explain what I should do. Do I obey Galbatorix and let him torture and poison her until her body can't take it anymore? If he keeps this up, she'll break. But it won't be the kind of breaking that he wants. She's too stubborn, she'll never give in to him, no matter what he does. And without her dragon here, there is no one he can threaten to make her submit. So when she breaks, she'll die._

 _Then ask yourself this. If she dies, how will you feel about it? Can you accept the fact that she is going to die? And then, ask yourself this. How much have you changed since you met her? How much of an influence has she had on you? Because I think you know the truth._

He clenches his fists, angry at himself for being so stupid. If he were just honest with himself for once, then he would clearly see what the truth is. No, he can't accept that she is going to die, it's not right, and he refuses to just sit back and do nothing about it. She doesn't deserve to die in a place like this, she should be back in the forest, running around in the trees without a care in the world.

As for himself, Thorn is right, he's different now. Before, he was bitter and lonely and angry, full of hatred and resentment. He was angry at the lack of justice in the world. His life has never been fair, always being judged before anyone gets to know him.

But she didn't judge him. Sure, they met as enemies, but she doesn't care who his parents are, she had parent troubles of her own. She understands what it means to be an outcast, to be hated for being born different. She faced him like a challenge, the same way she faces Galbatorix, and likely any challenge. Her courage and determination never waver. Even though she believes she's going to die, she's refusing to just give up quietly and submit or die. She'll be obstinate and stubborn until the end, and she'll enjoy every minute of it. She'll enjoy making Galbatorix as frustrated and angry as she can before he finally kills her.

So, the question is what is this feeling? He can't bear the thought of her being killed by Galbatorix. And as a surprise to himself, he finds himself willing to defy Galbatorix to help her, to save her as much pain as possible. And even more than that, he wants to spirit her away from here, take her somewhere safe.

 _What is this feeling? Why do I want to keep her happy and safe? And why do I want it so badly?_

 _Murtagh. I won't pretend that I have all the answers, especially about humans, and certainly females, but I think I know what has your heart in this turmoil, what this little elven princess has done to you._

Thorn cuddles up to him, trying to reassure him while he searches for the answer. _So, what do you think it is Thorn? What do you think is wrong with my head?_

A low rumbling sound comes from his throat, and his scales scrape against the roof. _I think that it isn't your head, but your heart. And rather than something wrong, I think it's something right. It's changed you, made you stronger inside. And I think it changed me as well, I feel inspired, like there is a new fire inside me._

 _Thorn?_

 _I think…that you have fallen in love._

Those words echo through his head while he makes his way back to the cells. It's been a couple of days since he's seen Ciara, and he's worried that she's finally ticked Galbatorix off enough for him to be angry enough to kill her.

And as he walks to the door of the torture room, he sees two guards inside, unchaining Ciara and reaching for her, probably planning to drag her back to her cell. So he walks inside, stops them, and then tells them that he's been given orders to take her back to her cell himself. And the two guards leave him to it without a word.

When the guards are out of sight, he kneels on the cold, hard floor, touches the soft skin of Ciara's shoulder, and slips one arm around her shoulders, while the other hooks under her knees. She's light, too light, he thinks. Then he remembers that she hasn't been fed, unlike Nasuada, which means that she is starved and dehydrated. And her skin is pale and cold. Frankly, it's a miracle that she's survived this long. But she won't survive much longer if this keeps up. He needs to make a plan, and fast.


	16. Chapter 16

Ciara's P.O.V

I hear footsteps approaching, two pairs. The shackles shake a little, then release me. I fall to the ground, managing to land on my hands and knees. My arms give out and my left arm slides out from under me, pitching me off balance and slamming my shoulder into the hard ground.

But before the guards can take hold of me, another pair of footsteps approaches, and the guards leave. The lone pair of footsteps stops next to me. A gentle hand touches my shoulder, and an arm finds its way under my knees.

The man picks me up, the figure feels like a man's, so that is where I base my assumption. My eyes refuse to open, so I can't verify the identity of this person. He starts walking, but to where, I don't know. Likely, back to my cell.

With my mind the only thing intact, I prod at his mind weakly. _And who is it that deigns to carry me?_

 _Me._ Comes Murtagh's solemn reply. _You've been locked in there for two and a half days, I was beginning to worry. Then Galbatorix sent me to bring you back to your cell. Has the torture broken you?_

 _No._ My defiance is as stubborn as ever. _The moment I break, you will know. But I will not bend to his will, he may as well just kill me. And then, let him see the fury of a truly enraged and vengeful dragon._

 _Your dragon won't stand a chance against him._

 _You think so? I wouldn't be so sure. Sorin has nothing but me, and I have nothing but him. With nothing left to lose but each other, we are not above going to the most extreme measures. And Sorin has a few tricks that you and Eragon haven't seen. And a few that even Oromis and Glaedr had never witnessed, only heard described._

Murtagh seems a bit surprised. _You mean that the two of you have even more tricks than the rather impressive ones that you've used against me?_

I feel like laughing, but it comes out as a groan. _Let me just say this. In a forest where time doesn't seem to pass, and the prospect of eternity, you tend to get very bored. Therefore, Sorin and I would go flying and come up with some very unique ways of flying._

 _Perhaps one day, I might get the chance to see you fly._ He is full of sadness and melancholy. _What do you enjoy the most when you do these unique ways of flying?_

 _Well, my favorite trick is for the two of us to gain a huge amount of altitude, then I jump out of the saddle and let myself freefall towards the ground. He flies beside me, and to get back into the saddle, I grab hold of his spikes and run along his spine. My saddle is highly modified from the original shape. And it is made easy by the lack of a spike in a place where there should be one. And attached to the straps around his belly are loops and stirrups that I use to get into interesting positions while he flies, all for different situations. Like doing the Rimgar against the body of a dragon._

I feel Murtagh press his forehead to mine, and suddenly I have a flash of the vision that I'd dreamed of. A man carrying a girl down a dark hallway, pressing his forehead briefly to hers. _This is what I saw._

 _What? What did you see?_

I cautiously bring the memory of the dream to the outer layer of my mind and lower the barrier. _See for yourself. I had a premonition of this very moment._

Murtagh's emotions start rolling around his mind quickly. _How did you see this?_

 _Like anyone who has these visions does. I saw it in my dreams, but it was different. That is how I knew that it was a premonition. Which begs the question. Why did you do that?_

 _I just wanted to._ I feel his mind rolling even faster. _Is there a custom among the elves that dictates that I cannot do that?_

 _Not at all. But Galbatorix might not see it so innocently if he discovers it. You would do well to be stealthier in your attempts to communicate with others._

 _Duly noted. Do you have any other pieces of wisdom to share?_

 _No. Only a request._ I force my eyes to open, and I look up at Murtagh's face. The silver mask is gone, leaving his dark eyes visible to me. He stares down at me, looking pained and sad. _If Galbatorix kills me, find Sorin and tell him to go with Eragon and Saphira. Even if I die, I want him to live, because if he kills himself just to join me in the void, it will be such a waste. Especially seeing as he and Saphira have gotten close. I don't want to cause more pain than needed._

Murtagh glares at me. "I'll find a way to save you."

 _Nasuada is the one who needs saving._ I close my eyes and breathe deeply. _She has a country to rebuild. And don't worry, if I find a moment where I am sure that I'm going to die, then I'll make sure that the traitor is within range before doing something stupid._ My consciousness flickers as Murtagh lays me on the stone bench, this time, with a blanket over me. He doesn't chain me back up, instead brushing something against my forehead.

"If you die, this whole place is going to turn into the biggest battlefield in all of history." And after leaving me with that last ray of hope, Murtagh leaves me to slip into the darkness of the dreamless sleep of my death-like trance.

Murtagh's P.O.V

Back on the roof, he contemplates what Thorn said to him, about having fallen in love. He's always considered it a fanciful notion that only happens in dreams and stories. But every time he looks at her, every time he thinks about her, he can't help but wonder if maybe it isn't just something found in dreams and the tales of bards in taverns.

But more pertinently, is that he doesn't have much time. He has to come up with a plan to get her and Nasuada out of Uru'Baen and back to the Varden. If it were just one of them, then it wouldn't be too difficult. But since Ciara wants him to save Nasuada instead of her, and he's not willing to just leave her here to be killed, he has no choice but to save them both.

On the other hand, a couple of days into his planning, he finally finds out why Galbatorix hasn't called him in to torture Ciara. She's gone and put herself into some kind of trance, probably the same kind of trance that he and Eragon had found Arya in when they rescued her from Gil'ead. She's been asleep for two days already, and despite his many efforts Galbatorix has failed to find a way to wake her up.

Frankly speaking, he feels a bit impressed with her, since no one has managed to annoy Galbatorix so thoroughly in a while. He isn't annoyed to the point of killing people, but he is annoyed to the point of talking and grumbling to himself. She's sure put a wrench in his plans, and that means that she might unintentionally be buying him time to plan her escape.

Unfortunately, not everything goes to plan. Because just as he finishes putting together an escape plan, all of his efforts go to waste, as the Varden finally make it to Uru'Baen. He's too late, he wasn't fast enough. And now, before he could get the two women out, the city is under siege.

Ciara's P.O.V

I am shaken out of my trance by huge rumbles and surges of magical power. But what brings me to consciousness is the touch of Murtagh's mind. I open my eyes and sit up, the poison seems to have lost its effects, so I only feel sore and tired from lack of food and water.

"How are you feeling?" Murtagh's eyes drift over me. "You look terrible."

I shoot him a look of brief annoyance. "Thank you for your astute observation." My voice is a little hoarse. "My throat hurts."

Murtagh offers me a goblet full of water. "This should help."

I take the goblet and drain it quickly. I massage my throat, but my fingers feel stiff and sore. "That feels better. But my muscles are all stiff from staying still for who knows how long."

"Three days." Murtagh looks impressed. "You stayed asleep for three days, and not even Galbatorix could rouse you." Then he frowns. "So how did you wake up?"

"There are surges of magic outside, then I felt the touch of your mind. I was still aware during my trance, but only I can break myself out of it. And I thought that now was as good a time as any."

He nods. "The king has summoned you to the throne room. Eragon, Saphira, Sorin, Arya and Elva have made it into the castle. He wants you and Nasuada present."

"Good." I push myself to my feet, slowly, shaking and trembling. "I've been wanting to see him as well." I take a few steps and stumble, twisting my ankle and falling to the floor.

Murtagh touches my arm. "You are in no condition to walk. Especially if you plan on doing something stupid. You will need all the energy you can muster."

I see the logic in his argument and allow him to carry me out of the cell, up the stairs, and through countless corridors. I do my best to appear weak and barely conscious as Murtagh strides into the towering throne room.

"You're late!"

Murtagh inclines his head to the king. "She tried something foolish as I was bringing her here. She thought to uphold her pride by walking here herself. She failed and damaged her ankle. She kicked up a fuss for a little while, but has since quieted down."

"I see." Galbatorix stares hard at me. "Put her there on the steps."

Murtagh's hands twitch, but he does as he is told, slowly lowering me onto the stone steps that lead to the throne, letting my head rest on my right ear. As Murtagh retreats, I look out into the room and see Eragon, along with Saphira, Sorin, Arya and Elva. I can feel magic in the room, which means that I can tend to my own injury.

With a slow, faint, but steady stream of energy, I cast a wordless healing spell on my ankle. The healing will take several minutes at this pace, but I know that I can do it. Galbatorix lights up the hall to reveal Nasuada, chained to a stone block.

Galbatorix triumphantly pronounces that he has gathered us all together to have us swear fealty to him. And by using the name of the ancient language, Galbatorix reveals his ability to shape the world of magic as he sees fit. Oaths have no power here, and spells can easily go awry.

So Eragon challenges the king to a duel, calling him a coward for hiding behind children like a frightened old woman. Galbatorix refuses the challenge, opting to pit Murtagh against Eragon instead. And when he calls them brothers, Eragon reveals that he and Murtagh are only half brothers, that his own father is Brom, not Morzan. Galbatorix seems surprised, then finds it amusing, pitting the sons of Brom and Morzan against each other.

After dimming many of the lanterns in the hall, Galbatorix has Murtagh go to face Eragon in battle. And I am forced to watch as the two of them duel. I try to catch Sorin's eye, which works after about a minute. I tap the ground and draw three circles, a signal for him to prepare three things. And with him and Arya off in a corner to give Eragon and Murtagh room, they have the privacy to help me.

The duel grows worse as my injury finishes healing. But with coordinated efforts of me, Sorin and Arya, it looks like I will be able to join this battle. But everything goes wrong when Murtagh stabs Eragon in the side of his stomach. But Eragon gets in a final blow of his own and aims for nearly the middle of Murtagh's abdomen, barely missing his spine. The blades slide out of their human sheaths and Murtagh falls to the ground.

With his focus on Eragon, Galbatorix calls him forward and tells him to pledge his fealty, then he will heal the two of them. Murtagh presses against my mind and I prepare to make my move. I float into the air slightly, then Murtagh's voice rings through the air. I take that moment of distraction to flip onto my feet, push against the steps and flip high into the air.

I hit the ground and slide back another ten feet, ending up on a hand and knee. My necklace comes flying at me first, so I slip it around my neck, drawing plenty of energy from it. Next comes my armor, which I wrap around myself and strap on quickly. My swords nearly sail over my head, but I grab them out of the air and point one at Galbatorix, who has managed to knock Murtagh to the ground and strip him of his voice.

Galbatorix, now without any wards restrains Eragon, Arya, Elva and the dragons. He turns to me and snarls. "Who do you think you are to merit such impertinence?"

I glare at him with the most vengeful feeling in my heart. "A Rider, half human, half elf, whom you personally stripped of every trace of family. You wear my uncle's crown, you had my grandfather killed over Gil'ead, and when Brom killed Morzan, and my parents were the ones who had come to his rescue. But you slew them in cold blood when I was only a few days old, and you orphaned me with your own hands." I cut my left palm, letting blood drip from my gedwey ignasia. I hold my hand out for Galbatorix to see. "Oaths of magic may have no power here, but mine is a blood oath. For the terrible crimes you have committed, for the families that you have torn apart, for the dragons, whom you've driven to extinction. And for the family whose blood I share, that you have spent a century slaying. I swear that you will die here today!"

My words ring across the hall. Galbatorix looks upon me with an expression of hatred. Then comes the mental attack. It is sharp and strong and attacks with such precision that Eragon cannot stand it for long. My rage and sadness and loneliness burst forth and the explosion of memories from my mind pierce the mental barriers of every mind, including Galbatorix's.

I feel Eragon developing an idea, and using my memories as a foundation, he casts a spell. It is a spell without words, a spell of understanding, of communication. I pour every one of my memories into the spell, a huge garbled mess of crying myself to sleep, running away from the harsh words and hateful stares, of running away from home, to escape the sadness. Sorin hatching, my love, my joy, my shared sadness with him at both being orphans. Then, the mind shattering event that changed my life forever, the death of my grandfather.

I let my tears course down my cheeks as the Eldunari, Arya and Saphira all add to the spell. Memories of every feeling that Galbatorix has inspired since he was born. And the compulsion to experience those feelings, which puts a huge strain on the mind, and Galbatorix is driven visibly insane.

The next minute is a blur. Eragon duels Galbatorix, though the king hardly puts up the fight that he was earlier. Arya leaps through the air, carrying Du Niernen, the Dauthdaert. She and the three dragons attack Shruikan. I bolt over to Murtagh, who is groaning and shaking his head.

"Are you all right?" I look at his head and take off his helm, revealing a small patch of blood under his dark hair. "Ouch."

He shakes his head. "I'll be fine. Where is Eragon?"

I point to the steps. "Fighting Galbatorix. Arya and our dragons are bringing down Shruikan."

Murtagh looks at me, his eyes full of pain. "Those memories, what were they? They shot out like a wave, but all I can make out is a lot of sadness." He rubs his head with his hand. "It was like a little girl crying to be let out of a cell."

I let my face go blank. "I will explain later. We need to get to Nasuada."

He nods and we make our way over to Nasuada, avoiding Shruikan's thrashing and the tails of our dragons. Once at her block, I hear a huge shrieking roar. I look back and see Shruikan fall. But as Galbatorix casts a spell, Eragon uses magic to drag himself, Arya, Saphira, Thorn, Sorin and Elva to the block.

As light fills the room, I speak in the ancient language. "Shield us from magic!" I raise my hands and make a huge bubble of magic around us that keeps out the devastating spell of destruction. But as my strength wanes, I feel over a hundred Eldunari feeding me the energy I need to keep up the spell, my tattoos glowing a blinding silver with the force of the magic running through me.

 _We are here to aid you child._ A deep and very old voice wraps me in its folds. _But you must release the spell soon, we cannot keep this up for long._

 _Just a bit longer, please. I need just a few more seconds._

The Eldunari are largely sapped of strength, and as their support withdraws, I keep the spell up all by myself. But try as I might, the magic slips from me and the shield disappears. The light and sound left over from Galbatorix's explosion bombard us. Eragon is conscious, so is Arya. The dragons are fine, but Elva is unconscious, and Murtagh is still losing blood.

"Alright, who can hear me?" I lean against what remains of the wall and breathe hard.

Eragon lifts his hand, though he is lying on his back. "I can."

"As can I." Arya rises to her feet and frantically asks the location of the egg and Eldunari, which Murtagh gives to her.

"Could you not be so loud, my head aches." Murtagh groans and places his hand on his stomach. He leans against the stone block and uses magic to undo Galbatorix's magic and free Nasuada.

 _I can also hear you._ Saphira lowers her eyes to meet mine. _Though what you did was reckless and stupid, and you are lucky that the old ones came to your rescue._

"I know." I look at the ground, then make a decision. "Everyone, meet down below in the courtyard, there are things that need doing."

Everyone agrees to my proposal and Sorin carries me down to the charred flagstones. I lean against his side and take energy from him as needed. The two children taken by Galbatorix as hostages run home. Which leaves me, Eragon, Murtagh, Nasuada, Elva and the three dragons. Sorin nudges me and growls softly. _Take as much energy as you need._

Murtagh moves to heal Nasuada, but I stop him. "You, sit down right now. In fact, all of you sit down this instant. None of you should be moving around."

Murtagh looks at me sourly. "That's rich, coming from someone who put herself into a deep sleep for three days." But despite his protests, my glares convince him to stop and sit.

With such a large variety of wounds, my song is going to be a very long one. But I get to my feet and start singing anyway, raising my voice to the sky and drawing energy from myself and Sorin. Saphira adds her energy to the mix, and surprisingly, Thorn does as well. With the energy of three dragons, I sing high and clear, healing the serious wounds that Murtagh and Eragon sustained, then the wounds on the dragons, and finally, Nasuada's. After ten minutes, I finally finish singing, and their wounds are all healed.

"Whoa, hold on there." Murtagh scrambles to his feet and he catches hold of my shoulders, then wraps an arm around my waist as my knees buckle. "How many stupid things are you going to do today?"

With my head pressed to his chest, my eyelids droop a little. "Maybe two more, I still haven't gone flying with Sorin yet."

Murtagh pulls back my collar and sees that my injuries are still present. He mutters a few barely intelligible healing spells, which take away all of the aches and pains in my body. "Be a good girl and stop trying to help other people so much. You'll get yourself killed if you keep it up."

"I know. But I'm stronger than you think. I have dragon magic coursing through me, Sorin saw to that when he got so curious that he gave me color-changing tattoos." My eyes close and I feel like I'm floating in a warm pool of water.


	17. Chapter 17

When I awaken, Eragon is shaking me. "Come on, we have to give chase to Murtagh!"

I look around in alarm and see that Murtagh is nowhere to be seen. "Let's go!" I climb into the saddle on Sorin's back and we immediately take off in the same direction as those two idiots. They could have at least said goodbye, instead of letting me fall asleep.

We fly south, towards the river. And with my energy being replenished by the food in the saddlebags, as well as the energy in one of my stores, I am fully prepared to give Murtagh a stern lecture. We spot them right next to the river, because against the green grass, Thorn sticks out like a drop of blood.

Saphira lands first, since I feel that I should give the brothers a chance to speak privately. But when Eragon prods my mind, I jump off of Sorin and sail down towards the ground. Sorin flies alongside me, grinning his toothy dragon smile. We spiral around each other until I grab hold of his spikes and hold onto the saddle. He lands powerfully, ripping up huge trenches in the ground. I jump out of the saddle and march irritably towards Murtagh.

Before Eragon can say a word, I grab Murtagh by the ear and drag him along with me. "Sorry, but I'll be borrowing him for a private screaming at."

"Don't hurt him too badly!" Eragon laughs behind us as Murtagh complains. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow! Why are you dragging me?"

I let go of his ear and opt for slapping him instead. "Because you went and left without a word. You say, don't go doing anything stupid, then leave. What do you think you're playing at?

Murtagh suddenly turns as scarlet as his dragon. "Could you not be so loud, Thorn is finding a great deal of amusement in this."

Somewhere at the back of my mind, I can feel Sorin snickering as well. And with his mind connected to Thorn's, I know that Thorn is also amused. "He isn't the only one, and my dragon has a much richer vocabulary than your does, so consider yourself lucky." My face gets hot, and I can see my markings turning a violent shade of pink. "There is also something I wanted to tell you. It is very important, and you can't tell it to anyone."

Murtagh nods and turns to my tongue. "On my word as a Rider, I will keep it secret."

I take a deep breath. "I want you to be the one to know exactly who I am. I want you to know who it is that you risked your life to help."

As Murtagh understands my meaning, he protests. "You shouldn't, that shouldn't be told to anyone you don't trust. I mean it would be an honor, but don't waste it on me."

I can feel Sorin listening quietly in the back of my mind. "If I saw it as a waste, I would not insist." I close my eyes, take a calming breath, and then allow my eyes to flash open with determination. "I am the princess who dances alone, in the darkness where two worlds collide." Then I smile sadly. "Those memories you asked about are mine. They are sixteen years-worth of sadness, loneliness and misery."

Murtagh's expression tells me that he has no idea what to say. Instead, he wraps me in a warm embrace and touches my mind. Something in my mind seems to shatter, something foreign. And then he whispers a word into my mind, a word that I realize is the name of my language.

He pulls away and looks at me sadly. "Now you and Eragon both know the name of names. Keep it as secret as I will keep your name, and use it to right the wrongs that Galbatorix has wrought upon this land."

"Are you really going to leave?" My eyes search his face, because I feel that I know what he wants. "I'm guessing that you feel that society won't accept you, therefore you have no choice but to leave, because you would otherwise fear for your sanity."

He nods. "Our wounds are deeper than most, and staying busy would just postpone the inevitable. We need to face our darkness now, before it consumes us further." His smile is pained. "I believe that you know the feeling."

A tear runs down my cheek. "Yes, I know. I have a decision of my own to make now that the fighting is over. So it seems that the Riders will be going their separate ways."

He touches my arm and shakes his head. "Even if you feel wrong being around humans and elves, you should stay with Eragon. He will need your help more than ever." He raises a hand to my face and brushes my hair aside. "What does it mean when your markings turn pink?"

I look at my hand and see the color he means. I blush, knowing that my feelings are showing on my face. "I've never seen this color before. Of course, the elves would consider me too young to be subject to these emotions." My face grows hot and I look at the ground. "You would probably know better than I do what I'm feeling.

 _Oh Ciara, you know what will happen if you allow your heart to be taken away by him._ Sorin presses against my mind, and I can feel Thorn listening in.

Murtagh takes a step back and turns me in a half circle, obscuring me from the view of Eragon and the dragons. "You're right, I do know it better." He kisses me right on the lips and tightens his hold on me. _And I'm sorry that I can't stay, but our lives are long, and we will see each other again._

Tears pour down my cheeks and I bury my face in his shirt. "Then promise me that you will come find me someday. I don't think that I can stay isolated forever."

"I promise that I will find you. But I want you to go with Eragon when he makes his plans to rebuild the Riders." He looks down at me and smiles. "I'll let him explain the details, since I know that he is very excited to."

After a last kiss, Murtagh leaves me and walks back towards Thorn, who extends his mind to mine. _Stay safe and well Lady. And do not let evil monarchs trap you in their clutches again. If they do, know that they will soon regret it._

Thorn turns around and I smile at them, watching sadly as they take off into the sky. "So, now what?"

"Now, I tell you about the Eldunari that I found on Vroengard. I assume you've met Umaroth." Eragon walks over to me. "He says that he spoke to you when you cast the protective spell at the citadel."

I nod. "If that is the dragon's name, then yes, I have met Umaroth." I smile at the thought of other Eldunari. "And was there anything else on Vroengard?"

Eragon's eyes light up like stars. "Hundreds of eggs, and two dozen have been set with spells that will bind them to Riders."

A huge weight feels like it lifts off of my heart. "That must be what he meant when he said that you were making plans to rebuild the Riders, he even insisted that I go with you instead of flying off into the unknown with Sorin. So, the question seems to be. Where do we train them?"

Eragon's smile grows wider. "I knew that you would agree to come. I was going to ask, but it seems I don't have to. And I don't know yet. Vroengard is uninhabitable, so we would have to find a suitable place with enough food, enough space, and where we can set up magical defenses in addition to the natural ones already present."

I ponder it for a moment. "In that case an island would be most suitable. I have a few ideas on how we might solve that problem, but I will need some time to look into some very old rumors."

"Then while you ponder, we have an entire empire of problems to solve."

I nod and we mount our dragons. And one of the most difficult parts of this entire revolution still remains. We must now choose the next king or queen of the kingdom, who will then see to the decades long task of undoing all the damage that Galbatorix has caused over the last century.

Eragon and I return to the city and go about cleaning up some from the battle. Though we nearly cause the destruction of the city when Eragon releases the enslaved Eldunari from the spells binding them, and they lash out at the world with no way to distinguish between friend and foe. So we leave the restraining of the Eldunari and retrieval of the Rider treasures in the citadel to the elves, who are more than happy to help restore our lost heritage.

Eragon and I climb into one of the only watchtowers still standing, to find Orik, Orrin, Dathedr, Nasuada, Arya and Grimmr Halfpaw waiting for us. So after some pleasantries, we get down to business. First, Dathedr points out that with the decision at hand, we must choose carefully, as Galbatorix's demise will soon be widely known throughout Alagaesia. And with the expectation of having their advice on the matter taken seriously, Dathedr's words belie a threat that if the leader is not one that the elves approve of, there will be repercussions.

And with high requirements of judgment and morality, among many other character traits, Dathedr outlines what they expect to see in the one to rule the humans. Nasuada agrees with the requirements, though Orrin protests somewhat.

And finally, we get down to the facts. With Galbatorix dead, the people will expect Eragon to rise up as King. And with all eyes on Eragon, he stays silent. Then Dathedr turns to me. "There is, however, one other here who could take the throne without contest, as the last member of the royal bloodline and Princess of the Broddring Kingdom." His eyes are as blank as ever as he regards me. "So, Princess Ciara. What say you?"

Everyone looks tense as they watch me, but Eragon touches my mind. _Is it what you want? If it is, I will not stop you. You are a kind person, and you would make a good queen. But my offer still stands, and I would like it if you would come with me._

 _Then it seems that it is time to end this contention over my existence once and for all._ I look at Dathedr, then at everyone else, my expression as bitter as when I first learned of Galbatorix. "No. I will not take the throne of humans. They mistrust me and look at me as though they wish for me to disappear. I have chafed under the truth of my bloodlines. I may be a princess by standards of elves and humans, but it no longer matters. The royal bloodline of the Broddring Kingdom and House Thrandurin are all but extinct. I am the last of both, and I refuse to get caught up in petty court politics, especially when considering that I will live indefinitely. I refuse to bind myself to ruling for eternity." And here I draw myself up haughtily. "I am a Dragon Rider, forever."

Eragon nods. "As am I. I seek to wear no crown. Ciara and I stand together." He smiles at me.

"We will do our duty as Riders, but look elsewhere for your ruler. Eragon knows who I would like to see wearing a crown, so he may tell you if it pleases him." I turn my back on the congregation and walk to the window. I hop onto the windowsill and glance back at them. "I won't let myself be tied down by restrictions and traditions ever again. I will study ancient scrolls and practice my magic for the benefit of the world. But never again will I be subject to ridicule and torment by those who think less of me." And with a graceful flourish, I jump from the window and land on Sorin's back. "Fly!"

We take off into the sky, my hair streaming behind me. My clothes are new and clean, made of silken fabric that flutters around my arms and legs. I feel the wind blowing around me, and I know that in the air is where I am meant to be.

And for the next few months, Eragon and I travel the land, undoing all of the enchantments that Galbatorix has ever placed. The task is arduous and lengthy due to the need to search every single city. We also have to release nobles and people of importance from oaths of fealty to Galbatorix. And even then, there are assassins, saboteurs and rogue soldiers to contend with and subdue, as well as the occasional noble that was serving Galbatorix without any oaths of fealty. On several occasions, Eragon and I are nearly killed by poison or by an attack.

Somehow, the humans and elves eventually stop looking at me with such distrust. But I still feel uncomfortable with all of their staring. So much so that whenever I go to do my healing sessions, I have to be very discreet, so as to not alert the public to my presence.

Before returning to the city, Eragon brings me along to visit Brom's diamond tomb in the sandstone hills to the south of Dras-Leona. Seeing Brom's tomb is awe-inspiring. And as Eragon carves new runes into the diamond tomb with magic, I imbue it with energy and set wards around it, preventing anyone from trying to chip open the tomb. Though Eragon is saddened by Umaroth's insistence that trying to revive Brom with magic would likely cause permanent damage to his personality, making the effort of reviving him pointless.

When we return to Ilirea, which is what Nasuada has renamed the city, Arya and most of the elves have already left to return to Du Weldenvarden. It seems that with the death of their queen, the elves must begin the process of choosing a new monarch.

And so, with time moving both fast and slow, those six months seem like both a brief chapter and an entire lifetime. Oftentimes, Eragon and I would travel together, but sometimes not. And despite my attempts at scrying, Murtagh remains out of my sight. And I don't dare utter the name of names to pierce his spells and glimpse him.

With uprisings erupting all over the kingdom, Eragon and I often have to fly out to quell them. But during one of my stays in Ilirea, Katrina goes into labor, and Roran immediately comes rushing to find me and beg my help.

I hurry to their temporary home in Ilirea and after only half an hour and very little pain, the baby girl is born. Katrina's health doesn't suffer, and Roran is relieved at such an easy childbirth. "Are all babies born this way in the forest?"

I nod. "Why go through hours and hours of pain, when the process can be quick and painless. Besides, the child is then free to be raised by the parents for many, many years."

I remember the glowing of Katrina's eyes and the happy gurgles of the red-haired baby. And I remember the celebrations of the villagers of Carvahall when Roran is given the title of Earl, and is set to preside over Palancar Valley. Nasuada was very generous to give him the title only the day after the birth of his daughter. By doing so, she has assured a very bright future for the family.

And despite Nasuada's attempts to give titles to me and Eragon, we refuse. And my research into finding a place to raise the dragons and future Riders is going well. Although, when Eragon finally contacts me about it, he is solemn.

 _Ciara, about your plan for relocation…_

 _Yes?_ For him to be having second thoughts or nervousness about it can't be a good sign. _Is there a problem?_

 _There is. We cannot raise the dragons in Alagaesia. If we put them within the reach of any one particular group, then there will be chaotic arguments over it. We must take the eggs and Eldunari and find a secluded place to rebuild the Riders._

I silently agree with him. _In that case, I think I have a good solution. I've been reading some very old lore about a sea on the other side of the Hadarac Desert. One must follow the Edda River to the east and sail for a few days. Then one will reach the ocean. On that ocean, there is rumored to be large islands. These islands supposedly have mountain chains, plains, forests, lakes and rivers. Everything we could possibly want. And there seems to be a lack of major predators, from what the records say. So we could be looking at a perfect place to raise the dragons without having to provide food or shelter. And there is plenty of room for a few cities._

 _I see. Then I suppose that is our best option. I will speak about this with Umaroth and Glaedr. But I doubt that they will have any complaints, since this is for the best. And the reason I ask is because Nasuada wants to use me to use the name of names to spy on and control the magic of magicians across the land._

I feel rather put off by what Eragon has just told me. _I see. That may be what she feels is the best solution, but I can see why you would not want to do that job. I will do more research and try to find a map or two of the main island._

 _Thank you._ His mind pulls away from mine and I look off into the distance. It seems as though the Riders are meant to make their home apart from Alagaesia. But no matter, if that is what it takes to rebuild our Order, then that is what I am prepared to accept. And if Eragon also accepts it, then we will leave this land, returning only to settle disputes as they happen and to eventually start posting Riders at the outposts across the land. But it will be decades before we have enough Riders.

When Eragon returns to Ilirea with Arya, I learn that the dragon egg that she had taken with her has hatched, and that she is now both a Rider and the new queen of the elves. And now, all that remains is for Eragon to tell Nasuada of the choice that we have made.

Immediately after Eragon announces our departure to Nasuada, I leave for the forest. I need time to gather my things, as well as empty my grandfather's house of his possessions. I also have to take seeds from each plant in my garden so that they can be taken with me. I also have much to prepare, for Eragon intends to do something that has not been done in hundreds of years. So I will go back for one last trip to my former home, while Eragon retrieves the dragon eggs from their resting place on Vroengard.

Sorin and I fly for days, winging our way towards Du Weldenvarden. We pass through the barrier easily enough, though we have to land in order to cross it. Once in Ellesmera, I go to my home and begin my collections.

For days, I harvest seeds from my plants, then transplant them and take them to the various families in Ellesmera so that they might enjoy them, as well as a way of saying goodbye. I then visit my grandfather's home and pack up his scrolls and books. I have Blodhgarm and his spell-casters, eight of which have elected to come with us and tend to the Eldunari, take away the scrolls and books from Oromis' home as well as my own.

When Roran and Katrina arrive in Ellesmera, I greet them and start showing them around the city. They stay with Arya in Tialdari Hall, but I monopolize much of their time. And wherever we go, the elves always insist on looking at Ismira, and it seems to make Roran a little jealous.

And when Eragon finally arrives, we feast and celebrate for a whole week. And finally comes the moment of truth. Not only has Eragon arranged for games to take place every year between the four races of Alagaesia. That way, the Urgals won't have to cause damage to gain prestige. And it will also be one of two ways to unite the races of the land. The other, is to reforge the pact between the dragons and the Riders.

All of the most powerful spell-casters of the elves, as well as all of the Eldunari from Vroengard gather at the Menoa tree. Eragon and I pool our magic together and a song fills the glade. The Caretakers, Iduna and Neya disrobe and dance for us, bringing the spectral dragon to life.

As Eragon explains his wish to include dwarves and Urgals in the Rider pact, the dragons agree and using the name of the ancient language, he begins to rework the pact, using spells in the most ancient of all the Rider texts. We recite the spell together, giving it energy and power. At the end of the ceremony, everyone who supplied magic for the pact is exhausted.


	18. Chapter 18 - Final

When we receive word from Blodhgarm that they have reached Ardwen Lake, Eragon admits that it is time to leave. But not to be left behind, Roran insists on accompanying us to the edge of the land. And unknown to Eragon, I have made preparations for our departure from Hedarth. And I've also made arrangements for the eggs, which Eragon trusts me to handle.

Once we arrive at the boat, called Talita, we all board it, leaving the dragons to fly by themselves. And so, our journey takes many days to go from the Gaena River to Eldor Lake, to the Edda River. And when we reach where the Az Ragni and Edda meet, Eragon gets a huge surprise.

An army of dwarves is waiting for us at Hedarth, led by none other than King Orik. They had brought Nagran for eating and plenty of mead. So we stay for a meal and a party of Urgals also arrives to wish us well, led by Nar Garzhvog. We eat and drink and laugh until the sun goes down and the sky turns dark.

Orik convinces Eragon to stay for the night, and for another full day. But when it comes time for dinner again, Orik cannot convince Eragon to stay for another meal. The elves board the boat, and after receiving gifts from Orik, Eragon and Saphira are prepared to leave as well. But I am not quite ready to see them leave yet.

"If I may have the attention of Nar Garzhvog, King Orik, and Earl Roran Stronghammer" I smile at using their formal titles. "There is something here for all of you. You have given us your gifts, and now it is our turn to do the same." I signal to the elven spell-casters, six of them, to come forward, each carrying a chest. "We have already left two for the elves in Du Weldenvarden. Now for the rest of you." I smile brightly and the elves come forward, opening the chests to reveal shining dragon eggs. "Two for each race."

Orik looks at the eggs wondrously. "But what if they don't hatch?"

"Then trade them." I laugh. "If they refuse to hatch for your people, then trade them for other eggs until they do hatch. And if you can get one to hatch, we will send along another to replace it. We are very eager for students, though until we get some, we are likely to spend most of our time preparing our new home for their arrival."

And with that, I board the boat and go into the cabin, for Eragon and Arya are on the main deck and I wouldn't want to disturb their last evening together. Though I do hear mournful keening from Saphira when Firnen and Arya depart, for she is unlikely to ever see them again.

For days more we sail down the river, eventually coming upon the open ocean. And just as I had described, there are islands in sight. Huge, towering mountains dot the landscape, and our new home appears nearly perfect as we sail onwards.


End file.
